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niSCOURSES 


CHIEFLY    ON 


DEVOTIONAL  SUBJECTS, 


BY    THE    LATE 

Rev.    NEVVCOME   CAPPE. 

To  which  are  Prefixed 

MEMOIRS   OF   HIS    LIFE, 

By  CATHARINE  CAPPE. 


WITH    AN   APPENDIX, 


CONTAINING    A    SERMON    PREACHED    AT    THE  INTERMENT  OF  THE 
AUTHOR,   BY    THE    LATE   REV.    WILLIAM    WOOD. 


"  He  being  dead  yet  speaketh." 


From  the  second  English  Edition. 


BOSTON  : 

PUBLISHED    BY    WELLS    AND    LILLY. 

1818. 


Div.  3,  p 


:*ii47T^ 


TO    THE    CONGREGATION 


OF   PROTESTANT   DISSENTERS 


In  St.  Sttviourgate, —  York. 


MY    FRIENDS, 


X  AM  persuaded  that  I  could  not  render  you 
a  more  acceptable  service  than  by  publishing  a 
selection  of  Sermons,  which,  some  of  you  will 
remember  to  have  heard  with  delight,  and  which 
all  of  you,  I  doubt  not,  will  peruse  with  interest, 
and,  as  I  hope,  with  lasting  advantage. 

To  you,  in  a  more  especial  manner,  your  late 
honoured  Pastor  yet  speaks. — He  conjures  you 
to  be  indeed  "  a  peculiar  people  zealous  of  good 
works;"  not  distinguished  so  much  from  others, 
by  difference  of  speculative  opinion,  as  by  strict 
integrity  of  principle,  by  candour  towards  all ;  by 
that  charity,  "  which  suffereth  long  and  is  kind;" 
by  the  exemplary  purity  of  your  hearts,  and  the 
active  usefulness  of  your  lives. — He  exhorts  you 
to  aspire  after  perfect  holiness — not  alone  for  your 
own  sakes,  but  that  in  you,  "  the  truth  as  it  is  in 
Jesus,"  may  shine  forth  and  be  glorified. 

My  friends !  when  we  look  back  upon  the 
years  that  are  gone,  and  reflect  upon  the  many 


SSGSf'O 


ir  DEDICATION. 

neglected  opportunities  of  greater  improvement, 
that  are  for  ever  fled  away  with  them;  surely 
we  must  be  seriously  solicitous  to  "  strengthen  the 
things  which  remain."  We  are  still  a  favoured 
people ;  and  though  I  am  not  permitted  to  speak 
of  the  talents,  the  virtues,  and  other  eminent  en- 
dowments of  our  present  INIinister,  your  own 
hearts  will  testify;  and  with  them  I  rest  the  ap- 
peal. 

Possessed  of  such  advantages,  ought  we  to  re- 
main "  even  as  others  ?"  Let  us,  my  friends,  be 
studious  to  abound  more  and  more  in  ev^ery  good 
word  and  work.  Let  us  live,  as  those  ought  to 
live,  who  are  hereafter  to  render  an  account,  so 
that  when  "the  days  of  the  years  of  our  pilgri- 
mage are  over,"  we  may  celebrate  an  eternal 
triumph  over  sin,  and  sorrow,  and  infirmity,  and 
be  found  worthy  to  join  in  "  the  song  of  Moses 
the  servant  of  God,  and  in  the  song  of  the  Lamb," 
for  ever  and  ever! 

Your  sincere  friend, 

CATHARINE  CAPPE. 
York,  May  22,  1805, 


PREFACE 


TO    THE   FIRST   EDITION. 


It  has  always  been  my  wish  lo  select  some  of  Mr.  Cappe's 
Sermons  for  publication.  Proceeding  from  the  hearf,  I 
have  thought  they  would  reach  the  heart ;  and  1  have  in- 
dulged the  pleasing  hope  that  there  are  those  who  would 
not  only  read  them  with  interest,  but  who  would  seriously 
endeavour  to  imbibe  the  principles,  and  to  feel  the  senti- 
ments of  piety  they  contain,  and  strive  daily,  like  the 
Preacher,  to  approach  nearer,  and  still  nearer,  towards 
Christian  perfection.  In  this  hope  I  may  be  deceived ; 
but  it  has  cheered  many  a  lonely  hour,  and  having  so 
strongly  felt  its  influence,  I  should  not  have  done  my  duty 
if  I  had  neglected  to  adopt  the  mode  of  conduct,  suggest- 
ed by  it. 

I  am  not,  however,  so  visionary  as  to  imagine,  that  the 
sentiments  of  the  publick  respecting  the  merit  of  these 
Sermons,  or  even  the  sentiments  of  persons  whose  turn  of 
mind  may  be  somewhat  congenial,  should  keep  pace  with 
my  own.  I  well  know,  that  striking  and  elevating  as  are 
the  views  they  exhibit  of  the  power  and  goodness  of  God, 
and  of  the  unspeakable  importance  of  cultivating  right  af- 
fections towards  him — animated  and  pathetick  as  is  the 
strain  of  feeling  with  which  they  abound,  they  cannot  be 
associated  in  the  minds  of  others  with  the  impressive  man- 


Ti  PREFACE. 

ner,  the  persuasive  tones,  the  simple  pietj,  which  so  ex- 
ceedingly increase  their  interest  with  those  who  heard  the 
Preacher,  and  who  loved  him,  and  which  to  their  minds  so 
forcibly  recall  his  image,  that  scarcely  can  they  persuade 
themselves,  he  is  not  still  speaking  !  I  should  think,  how- 
ever, that  independent  of  every  thing  extrinsick,  they  must 
have  sufficient  internal  merit  to  recommend  them.  It  is 
true,  indeed,  that  a  spirit  of  devotion  is  not  the  spirit  of 
the  times  ;  yet  some  persons  surely  there  are,  who  wish 
to  discriminate  accurately  between  sterling  piety,  which 
leads  to  every  thing  great,  and  noble,  and  consolatory,  and 
that  wild  enthusiasm  which  erringly  assumes  its  honoured 
name — some,  who  would  wish  to  keep  strictly  within  the 
boundary,  beyond  which  pleasure,  even  innocent  pleasure 
assumes  a  different  character — (o  persons  such  as  these, 
the  Sermons  here  presented  to  them,  cannot  be  without 
their  value. 

The  Prayers  are  added  by  the  Editor ;  although  taken  from 
Mr.  Cappe's,  yet  as  their  present  connexion  and  arrange- 
ment could  not  be  his,  any  defects  in  these  respects,  if  such 
there  are,  cannot  attach  to  him. 

In  the  Memoirs  annexed  to  this  volume,  there  are  con- 
siderable additions  made  to  those  which  were  prehxed  to 
the  Critical  Dissertations  published  in  1802,  and  the  long 
quotations  then  given  from  the  Sermons  preached  by  Mr. 
Cappe  on  his  recovery  from  a  nervous  fever  in  1782,  also 
from  those  on  the  love  of  God,  are  here  wholly  omitted,  as 
the  Discourses  themselves  form  a  part  of  this  selection. 
The  Editor  has  availed  herself  of  Mr.  Wood's  kind  per- 
mission to  annex  the  Sermon  preached  by  him  at  the  fune- 
ral of  the  deceased,  as  a  powerful  independent  testimony 
of  the  talents  and  virtues  she  has  endeavoured  to  por- 
tray. 


PEEFACE 


TO    THE    SECOND    EDITION. 


1  HAVE  great  pleasure  in  bringing  forward  a  second 
edition  of  the  following  Sermons,  first  published  in  1805, 
and  which  have  been  long  out  of  print.  They  have  been 
frequently  inquired  for,  which  I  consider  as  a  consolatory 
proof  that  the  spirit  of  pure  and  genuine  devotion  has  still 
its  sincere  votaries,  however  it  may  be  hidden  from  the 
philosopher,  who  seeks  for  the  solution  of  every  great  and 
appalling  event  in  the  mere  operation  of  secondary  causes  ; 
— from  the  warriour,  who  rests  for  success  on  his  sanguinary 
sword  ; — or  from  him  who  places  his  chief  happiness  in 
the  fleeting  unsubstantial  enjoyments  of  the  present  hour. 
— As  a  proof  that  there  are  many,  especially  in  the  calm 
still  walks  of  life,  apart  from  the  toils  of  ambition  and  the 
direful  conflicts  of  contending  nations,  who  do  not  exclude 
the  great  Ruler  of  the  Universe  from  "  all  their  thoughts  ;'* 
who  consider  his  favour  as  the  only  true  riches,  and  "  who 
seek  it  with  their  whole  heart" — not  indeed  in  a  pertina- 
cious attachment  to  any  particular  system  of  theological 
speculation,  but  in  a  sincere  desire  of  being  conformed  to 
the  likeness  of  Him  who  was  appointed  to  bring  in  "an 
everlasting  righteousness  ;"  of  Him  who  continually  went 
about   doing  good,   and   who  did  always  (hose  things  (hat 


Tiii  PREFACE. 

were  most  pleasing  to  his  heavenly  Father — to  his  God 
and  to  our  God  ! 

On  a  careful  perusal  of  these  Sermons  with  a  view 
to  their  republication,  after  the  lapse  of  eleven  years, 
my  mind  is  so  powerfully  impressed  by  their  superiour 
excellence,  that  I  cannot  refrain  from  dwelling  for  a 
few  moments  on  a  subject  so  near  my  heart,  indecorous, 
as  any  eulogium  on  my  part  maybe  deemed.  I  should 
however  restrain  myself  from  this  indulgence,  could  any 
impropriety  of  mine  at  all  affect  the  memory  of  their 
revered  author ;  or  if  I  did  not  cherish  a  latent  hope, 
that  by  thus  dilating  upon  their  great  merit,  the  casual 
reader  might  be  induced  to  peruse  them  with  more  at- 
tention, and  might  consequently  reap  from  the  perusal 
more  lasting  benefit. 

The  three  6rst  Discourses  on  Faith  cannot  but  be 
deemed  highly  useful,  not  merely  as  forcibly  pointing 
out  the  great  importance  of  this  salutarj  principle  in 
the  daily  intercourse  and  general  conduct  of  human  life, 
but  as  leading  to  a  just  discrimination  between  such  of 
its  objects  as  reason  suggests  and  approves,  and  those  of  a 
blind  credulity,  a  wild  enthusiasm,  or  an  abject,  debasing 
superstition. 

Respecting  those  which  follow  on  "undue  anxiety," 
and  "on  the  duty  of  joining  thanksgiving  with  prayer," 
we  may  confidently  ask,  where  is  the  heart  of  ordi- 
nary sensibility  which  in  its  progress  through  life,  in 
many  a  painful  hour  of  anticipated  misfortune  or  of  pain- 
ful suspense,  has  not  stood  in  need  of  the  cheering  conso- 
lations they  so  powerfully  recomaiend  and  so  eflfectually 
impart  ? 


PREFACE.  ix 

Of  the  extreme  importance  of  those  Discourses  which 
treat  on  the  obligation  and  reasonableness  of  the  love  of 
God;  on  the  constant  care  and  diligence  required  to 
keep  it  alive  ;  on  the  incompatibility  of  the  love  of  plea- 
sure with  the  love  of  God,  and  on  the  characteristicks 
of  those,  who  are  governed  by  the  love  of  pleasure,  all 
must  be  fully  aware  who  are  in  the  habit  of  attending 
to  the  current  of  evenis,  or  of  observing  what  daily 
passes  around  them.  But  as  the  generality  are  far 
from  being  of  this  description,  the  testimony  of  one 
who  has  had  the  ample  experience  of  a  longer  life  than 
was  anciently  attributed  to  man  by  the  shepherd  king  of 
antiquity,  must  not  be  withheld.  How  many  instances 
could  she  adduce  from  her  own  observation,  were  this  the 
proper  place  for  it,  of  the  truth  and  unspeakable  impor- 
tance of  the  genuine  Christian  principles  which  these  Dis- 
courses so  forcibly  inculcate  ! — To  the  serious  attenflon  of 
younger  readers,  who  are  just  entering  on  the  eventful 
career  of  human  life,  she  would  particularly  recommend 
them  ;  ardently  wishing,  that  at  a  period  when  lasting  im- 
pressions are  most  easily  made,  they  may  learn  to  be  upon 
their  guard  respecting  the  opinions  they  adopt,  and  the 
consequent  habits  the_y  form.  But  let  them  not  rest 
on  her  feeble  testimony,  nor  even  on  the  powerful  rea- 
soning of  the  Christian  preacher. — May  the  lamentable 
destruction  of  all  moral  and  religious  principle,  and  the 
total  degradation  of  a  great  neighbouring  nalion,  by  the 
immoderate,  never-ending  pursuit  of  pleasure,  operate  as 
a  more  tremendous  warning,  and  raising  in  a  louder  tone 
its  terrifick  voice,  more  forcibly  compel  the  awful  convic- 
tion ! 

The  Editor  may  be  pardoned  if,  as  a  female,  she  should 
take  a  peculiar  interest  in  the  Sermons  which  dilate  on  the 

B 


X  PREFACE. 

singular  honour  conferred  on  Mary  of  Magdula  and  her 
sononing  companions,  by  their  divine  Master,  in  his  ap- 
pearing first  to  them  after  his  glorious  resurrection  :  A 
decisive  proof  surely,  that  in  however  degrading  a  light 
the  sex  may  have  been  considered  in  days  of  great  igno- 
rance and  moral  depravity,  and  are  even  yet  regarded  on 
some  of  the  finest  portions  of  the  globe,  they  are  not  so 
estimated  in  the  sight  of  God  ; — that,  in  the  Christian  code, 
there  is  no  distinction  of  persons  ;  but,  of  which  ever  sex, 
or  of  whatever  country  or  climate,  those  who  fear  him  and 
work  righteousness,  shall  assuredly  be  accepted  of  him. 
What  a  stimulus  this,  to  those  happy  females  who  bear 
the  Christian  name,  to  be  continually  making  progress 
in  every  mental,  moral,  and  religious  attainment ! 

Nor  are  those  reflections  less  valuable  that  take  their 
rise  in  the  ihree  following  Discourses,  from  the  contem- 
plation of  the  tomb  of  Jesus ;  whether  as  tending  to  the 
confirmation  of  our  Christian  faith,  to  the  improvement  of 
our  Christian  temper,  or  to  the  increase  of  our  love  to 
Christ. 

The  very  severe  illness  of  the  Author  in  the  year  1782, 
gave  occasion,  as  is  mentioned  in  the  prefixed  Memoir,  to 
that  interesting  development  of  the  state  of  his  mind  during 
its  severe  pressure,  and  after  his  happy  deliverance  from 
it,  so  impressively  detailed  in  the  three  Discourses  on  the 
use  and  improvement  to  be  derived  from  such  afflicting 
dispensations.  They  have  been  read  with  peculiar  sym- 
pathy, both  on  this  and  on  the  other  side  the  Allantick, 
and  the  Editor  has  had  the  satisfaction  of  hearing,  have 
been  the  source  of  great  consolation  to  many  an  afflicted 
spirit. 


PREFACE.  xi 

On  the  four  Discourses  exclusively  devotional,  the  Edi- 
tor refrains  from  dilating.  To  a  mind  fully  capable  of 
duly  appreciating  the  delicacy,  truth,  and  beauty  of  the 
senliraents  they  express,  it  would  be  wholly  unnecessary, 
and  to  readers  of  a  contrary  description,  who  are  princi- 
pally occupied  in  pursuits  of  ambition,  of  gain,  or  of  plea- 
sure, it  would  be  to  address  them  in  an  unknown  language, 
and  consequently  would  be  quite  unavailing. 

The  Editor  makes  no  apology  for  subjoining  the  excel- 
lent Sermon  of  the  lale  Mr.  Wood,  to  this,  as  to  the 
former  edition.  Little  was  it  apprehended  on  the  last  day 
of  the  eighteenth  century  when  Mr.  Wood  delivered  his 
able  impressive  Discourse,  that  in  the  short  space  of  eight 
years  and  three  months,  his  sorrowiiig  friend,  Mr.  Well- 
beloved,  should  be  called  upon  to  perform  the  like  pain- 
ful oflSce  at  his  funeral  !  But  such  is  the  life  of  man  ! 
— and  so  true  it  is,  that  his  life  is  "  even  as  a  vapour 
which  appeareth  for  alidle  time  and  soon  vanisheih  away  !"* 

*  Mr-  Wood  was  a  man  of  uncommon  talents,  and  all  his  compo- 
sitions were  marked  by  an  originality  of  thouglit,  and  a  comprehensive 
view  of  his  subject,  which  rendered  them  peculiarly  striking.  He 
published  very  little,  and  consequently  was  not  generally  known 
or  duly  appreciated  by  the  publick.  flis  friend  Mr.  Wellbeloved, 
who  was  one  of  the  few  that  knew  him  well,  incorporated  a  very 
useful  analysis  of  some  of  his  manuscript  compositions  which  he  was 
permitted  to  peruse,  in  an  interesting  Memoir  written  the  year  after 
Mr.  Wood's  decease.  This  Memoir  like  the  subject  of  it,  has  not 
obtained  the  celebrity  to  which  its  merit,  had  it  got  into  extensive 
circulation,  must  have  procured  lor  it ;  and  this  is  the  more  to  be 
regretted,  as  it  contains  a  general  outline  of  Mr.  Wood's  mode  of 
instructing  his  pupils,  who  were  females,  in  various  branches  of 
literature  and  science,  exhibiting  a  striking  specimen  of  the  superiour 
comprehension  of  his  mind,  and  of  the  masterly  view  he  took  of  his 
subject,  and  which  might  therefore  be  rendered  extremely  useful  to 
many  others  engaged  in  similar  studies. 

York,  June  14,  1816. 


CONTENTS. 


Page 
Dedication iii 

Prefiace v 

Preface  to  the  Second  Edition vii 

Life  of  the  Rer.  Newcome  Cappe xvii 


DISCOURSES. 

DISCOURSE    I. 

On  Faith  in  general,  and  Religious  Faith  in  particular    ....    85 

DISCOURSE    II. 
Faith  a  Reasonable  Principle 94 

DISCOURSE    III. 
Faith  a  Desirable  and  Important  Principle 106 

DISCOURSE   IV. 

The  Unreasonableness  and  Folly  of  undue  Anxiety 117 

DISCOURSE    V. 

On  the  Duty  of  joining  Thanksgiving  with  Prayer,  in  Time  of 
Affliction 127 


xiv  CONTENTS. 

DISCOURSE  VI. 
Part  II. — On  the  Duty  of  joining  Thanksgiving  with  Prayer,  in 
Time  of  Affliction 137 

DISCOURSE    VII. 

Man,  the  Propert  y  of  God 148 

DISCOURSE  VIII. 

On  the  Obligation,  the  Importance,  and  the  Reasonableness  of  the 
Love  of  God 161 

DISCOURSE   IX. 

On  the  Care  and  Diligence  required  to  preserve  and  keep  alive 
the  Love  of  God 1 74 

DISCOURSE   X. 

On  the  Incompatibility  of  the  Love  of  Pleasure,  with  the  Love  of 
God 186 

DISCOURSE    XL 

Part  II. — On  the  Incompatibility  of  the  Love  of  Pleasure,  with 
the  Love  of  God 198 

DISCOURSE    XII. 
Characteristicks  of  those  who  are  governed  by  the  Love  of  Pleasure  21 1 

DISCOURSE    XIII. 

Part  II. — Characteristicks  of  those  who  are  governed   by  the 
Love  of  Pleasure 223 

DISCOURSE    XIV. 

On   the    Appearance   of  Christ,  after  his  Resurrection,  to  Mary 
Magdalene 236 


CONTENTS.  XV 

DISCOURSE    XV. 
Part  II.— On  the  Appearance  of  Christ  after  his  Resurrection,  to 
Mary  Magdalene 248 

DISCOURSE    XVI. 

Reflections  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesus,  as  tending  to  confirm  our  Faith 
in  the  Christian  Doctrine 263 

DISCOURSE    XVII. 

Part  II. — Reflections  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesus,  tending  to  improve 
the  Christian  Temper 276 

DISCOURSE    XVIII. 
Part  III. — Reflections  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesus,  tending  to  improve 
the  Christian  Temper 286 

DISCOURSE   XIX. 

David's  Morning  Hymn  of  Praise , 299 

DISCOURSE    XX. 

Part  II. — On  the  glory  of  God,  as  displayed  by  the  Heavenly 
Luminaries 313 

DISCOURSE   XXI. 

Part  III. — On  the  glory  of  God,  as  manifested  in  the  Heavenly 
Luminaries 326 

DISCOURSE    XXII. 

On  the  Use  and  improvement  to  be  derived  from  Severe  Illness     339 

DISCOURSE    XXIII. 

Part  II. — On  the  Use  and  Improvement  to  be  derived  from  Se- 
vere Illness 3/51 


XTi  CONTENTS, 

DISCOURSE    XXIV. 

Part  III. — On  the  Use  and  ImproTement  to  be  derived  from  Se- 
vere Illness 362 


APPENDIX. 

A  Sermon  by  the  Rev.  William  Wood,  after  the  Interment  of  the 
Author    .     .     .     : 375 


LIFE  OF   THE   AUTHOR.* 


Memoirs  of  persons  who  were  eminent  for 
talents,  learning,  virtue,  and  piety,  cannot  fail 
of  being  interesting  to  all  who  feel  any  solici- 
tude about  their  own  improvement,  any  wish 
to  attain  that  degree  of  excellence,  to  which, 
even  in  this  imperfect  state,  this  dawn  of  intel- 
lectual life,  the  human  mind  has  in  numerous 
instances  been  found  capable  of  arriving.  It 
is  with  the  ardent  wish  of  stimulating  others, 
"  to  strive  after  things  that  are  excellent," 
that  the  editor  of  the  foUoAving  discourses  re- 
publishes with  some  additions,  what,  on  a 
former  occasion  she  had  laid  before  the  pub- 
lick  respecting  the  character  of  the  preacher : 
to  gain  celebiity  to  his  memory,  were  she 
equal  to  the  attempt,  would  not  be  an  object 
of  her  desire  :  When  living,  he  sought  not 
the  praise  of  men  ;  and  now,  if  he  were 
conscious  of  what  is  passing  in  this  lower 
Avorld,  their  praise    or   neglect  would   be  to 

*  Memoirs  of  Mr.  Cappe  were  originally  prefixed  by  the  Editor  to  two 
volumes  of  his  Critical  Dissertations  ;  but  as  it  is  hoped  that  a  volume 
of  Devotional  Sermons  may  interest  many  who  will  never  see  the 
former  publication,  she  has  ventured  to  prefix  them,  with  some  addi- 
tions, to  the  present. 

C 


xviii  LIFE   OF   THE   AUTHOR. 

him  a  matter  of  no  moment ; — less  than  the 
sliadow  of  a  shatle. 

Newcome  Cappe,  the  ehk'st  of  six  children, 
tlis'ee  of  whom  died  in  their  infancy,  was  horn 
at  Leeds,  in  Yorkshire,  Fehruarj  the  21st, 
1732-3.  His  father,  the  Rev.  Joseph  Cappe, 
mm  J  years  minister  of  the  dissenting  congre- 
gation at  Mill-hill  Chapel  in  that  town,  was  a 
person  of  great  learning,  liberality,  and  piety  ; 
eminently  skilled  in  the  oriental  languages, 
and  highly  popular  in  the  discharge  of  his 
ministerial  functions.  It  was  his  custom 
to  preach  without  notes  for  many  years,  owing 
to  the  following  circumstance  :  Happening 
one  day,  on  a  visit  to  a  distant  congregation, 
to  forget  his  sermon,  he  was  obliged  to  deliver 
it  from  memory,  and  finding  that  he  succeed- 
ed in  the  effort,  although  he  continued  always 
to  pre-compose  his  sermons,  he  never  after- 
wards committed  them  to  paper :  hence  at 
his  death  scarcely  any  vestiges  of  them  re- 
mained, except  what  were  engraven  on  the 
hearts  of  a  numerous,  an  attentive,  and  an 
affectionate  congregation. 

A  striking  proof  of  tlie  high  veneration  in 
which  he  was  held,  lias  accidentally  f  dlen 
into  my  hands  A  respectjible  member  of 
his  congregation,  who  had  taken  notes  of 
some  of  his  sermons,  and  afterwards  tran- 
scribed them  for  his  own  use,  .o^ave  evening 
lectures    from   them    many    years    after    his 


LIFE  OF  THE   AUTHOR.  six 

death ;  some  of  wliicli  are  now  befoi'e  me, 
and  are  prefaced  in  the  folloAving  remai'k- 
able  manner :  '*  l\\  in  the  course  of  my 
reading',  any  tiling  occurs  tliat  may  fall  be- 
neath that  true  s^reatness  and  dignity  of 
sentiment,  with  which  that  woi'thy  gentleman, 
the  Reverend  Joseph  Cappe,  used  to  deliver 
his  sermons,  you  will  please  to  keep  this  one 
thing  in  your  thoughts,  that  what  I  read  was 
transcribed  from  characters,  and  only  design- 
ed  for  private  use."  He  married  the  daughter, 
and  one  of  the  coheiresses,  of  Mr.  Newcome 
of  Waddington,  in  Lincolnshire,  a  gentleman 
of  considerable  property,  and  great  respec- 
tability of  character.  Their  son  showed  early 
marks  of  that  genius,  and  extraordinary  appli- 
cation to  study,  which  afterwards  marked  his 
character :  at  six  years  of  age,  he  had  made 
considerable  progress  in  the  Latin  language  : 
and  while  he  was  yet  very  young,  he  was  so 
attentive  an  hearer  of  the  preaching  of  his 
reverend  father,  that  he  was  frequently  asked 
by  him  on  a  Sunday  morning,  where  his  dis- 
course the  preceding  Sunday  had  been  dis- 
continued ;  it  being  his  practice,  as  it  was 
afterwards  that  of  his  son,  to  continue  the  in- 
vestigation of  the  same  subject  through  a 
long  series  of  discourses. 

The  immediate  subject  of  these  memoirs, 
at  this  period,  was  in  the  habit  of  rising  at 
four  in  the  morning,  that  he  might  read 
his  lessons,  undisturbed  by  the  familv.     This 


XX  LIFE  OF   THE  AUTHOR. 

he  did  in  winter  by  the  kitchen  tire,  whicJi, 
in  that  part  of  the  country,  it  is  customary 
to  keep  in  all  night ;  and  when  summer 
approaclied,  and  tlie  weather  allowed,  it  was 
his  delight  to  take  his  hook  for  the  same  pur- 
pose, and  sit  among  the  ruins  of  Kirkstall 
Abbey,  situated  about  three  miles  from  Leeds, 
on  the  banks  of  tbe  river  Aire.  The  pic- 
turesque scenery  which  he  there  enjoyed, 
aided  by  the  impressive  solemnity  of  the 
surrounding  objects,  contributed,  no  doubt, 
to  cultivate  and  improve  that  fine  taste  for  the 
beauties  of  nature,  that  high  relish  for  the 
grand  and  sublime,  whicli  formed  ever  after 
a  distinguished  part  of  his  character,  and  of 
which,  it  is  apprehended,  many  instances 
will  appear  in  the  following  discourses  :  Sce- 
nery like  this  it  was  ever  his  delight  to  con- 
template ;  and  to  rise  "from  ^iature,  up  to 
Nature's  God." 

His  excellent  father  tlied  of  a  fever  at  the 
age  of  forty-eight  ;  an  event  which  made 
an  impression  on  his  son's  mind,  never  after- 
wards to  be  effaced.  It  was  suggested  to 
Mrs.  Cappe,  soon  after  this  afflictive  stroke, 
by  a  particular  friend,  that  the  uncommon 
talents,  and  extraordinary  diligence  of  her 
son,  tlien  in  his  sixteenth  year,  would  un- 
doubtedly procure  him  the  patronage  of  T)r. 
Seeker,  at  that  time  bishop  of  Oxford,  and 
rector  of  St.  James's,  (afterwards  archbishop 
of  Canterbury,)  if  he  were  introduced  to  him  ; 


LIFE  OF  THE   AUTHOR.  xxi 

which,  it  was  urged,  could  easily  he  accom- 
plished ;  a  connexion  already  suhsisting  he- 
tween  the  two  families,  in  consequence  of  an 
inter-marriage.  On  this  suhject  she  consult- 
ed Jier  son  ;  but  although  not  insensible  to 
the  splendour  of  the  prospect  which  might 
by  this  means  have  opened  upon  him,  he  did 
not  hesitate  to  decline  the  proposal,  knowing 
that  the  bishop's  patronage  could  not  be  obtain- 
ed without  conforming  to  the  establishment ; 
a  step  which  he  believed  would  be  inimical 
to  that  unfettered  research  into  religious 
truth,  which,  even  then,  was  a  pursuit  more 
congenial  to  his  mind,  than  objects  of  ambi- 
tion, or  worldly  aggrandisement.  He  was 
placed  by  his  mother,  in  the  same  year, 
(1748,)  with  Mr.  afterwards  Dr.  Aikin,  at 
Kibworth  in  Leicestershire,  where  he  remain- 
ed one  year ;  a  period  on  which  he  always 
looked  back  Mith  peculiar  satisfaction.  Here 
he  began,  in  earnest,  that  intellectual  career 
in  which  he  so  much  delighted :  he  had  a 
high  respect  for  his  tutor,  by  whom  he  was 
much  distinguished,  and  had  great  pleasure 
in  observing  many  early  indications  of  those 
talents  in  Mrs.  Barbauld,  the  daughter  of 
Dr.  Aikin,  then  four  years  of  age,  which  have 
since  obtained  the  general  suffrage.  The 
reader  may  not  be  displeased  with  the  follow- 
ing specimen. 

The  tutor  and  his  pupil  conversing  during 
a  morning's  walk  on  the  subject  of  the  pas- 


xxii  LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR. 

sions,  they  were  called  to  dinner  before  the 
conversation  ended.  When  they  were  seat- 
ed, the  doctor  continued  the  subject :  "  You 
see,  therefore,  sir,  that  joy,  accurately  defin- 
ed, cannot  have  place  in  a  state  of  perfect 
felicit}^ ;  for  joy,  supposes  an  accession  of 
happiness."  "  I  think  you  are  mistaken,  pa- 
pa," exclaimed  a  little  voice  from  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  table  :  "  Wliy  do  you  think  so, 
Lsetitia  ?"  "  Because,  papa,  in  the  chapter  I 
read  to  you  this  morning  in  the  Testament, 
it  is  said,  Tliere  is  more  joy  in  heaven  over 
one  sinner  that  repenteth,  than  over  ninety- 
nine  just  persons  that  need  no  repentance." 

From  Kibworth,  Mr.  Cappe  was  removed 
to  Northampton,  where  he  continued  to  make 
great  progress  in  literature,  under  the  cele- 
brated Dr.  Doddridge  ;  of  which  the  writer  of 
these  memoirs,  occupied  in  the  melancholy 
employment  of  reviewing  a  box  of  letters, 
written  many  of  them  by  departed  friends, 
accidentally  met  with  the  following  testimony, 
in  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Cappe,  then  re  sitting  at 
Leeds,  dated  Northampton,  June  8,   1750. 

"  Dear  Madam, 

"  It  is  highly  fit,  that  when  my  much  es- 
teemed pupil  and  friend  returns  to  you,  to 
spend  the  vacation  at  home,  he  should  bear 
along  with  him  that  testimonial  to  his  excel- 
lent character,  and  exemplary  behaviour, 
which  he  has  so  long  deserved.     1  therefore 


LIFE  OF  THE   AUTHOR.  xxiii 

beg  leave  to  assure  you,  that  1  cannot  recol- 
lect I  ever  had  a  pupil  under  my  care,  Avhose 
genius  and  capacity  exceeded  his,  and  few 
have  equalled  him  in  a  close  and  steady  appli- 
cation to  business.  Hi's  distinguished  talents 
have  been  adorned  with  the  modesty  of  his 
behaviour  and  sweetness  of  his  temper ;  and 
he  has  still  conducted  himself,  so  as  to  pre- 
serve the  Christian  character,  and  to  encour- 
age my  hopes  of  eminent  usefulness  under 
the  ministerial.  I  cannot  hut  congratulate 
you,  dear  madam,  on  the  agreeable  prospect 
you  have  in  him,  and  most  earnestly  pray, 
that  God  may  spare  his  life  and  yours,  and  so 
establish  the  health  of  both,  that  you  may 
long  see  him  very  useful  in  the  church,  and 
may  see  the  life  of  the  worthy  father,  continu- 
ed in  that  of  the  son. 

"  P.  Doddridge." 

During  the  three  years  Mr.  Cappe  spent  at 
Northampton,  some  doubts  arose  in  his  mind 
respecting  the  evidences  of  Christianity  ;  and 
feeling  it  impossible  to  engage  in  the  ministry, 
if  these  doubts  should  continue,  he  determin- 
ed to  investigate  the  subject  in  the  most  im- 
partial manner.  For  this  purpose  he  read 
carefully  the  writings  of  the  French  and  En- 
glish deists,  weighing,  as  he  went  along,  theii* 
several  objections,  the  greater  part  of  which 
appeared  to  him  to  be  levelled,  not  against 
the  Christianity  of  the  scriptures,  although 
these  writers  might  conceive  tliem  so  to  he, 


xxiv  LIFE  OK  THE   AUTHOR. 

but  against  the  additions  and  corruptions 
which  in  the  lapse  of  ages  have,  from  time  to 
time,  been  added  to  it.  How  often  have  I 
heard  him  rejoice  and  triumph  in  the  final  re- 
sult !  a  firm  persuasion,  never  afterwards  sha- 
ken, that  the  gospel  of  Christ  is  indeed  the 
truth  of  Glrod !  It  struck  his  mind,  however, 
even  then,  and  he  was  afterwards  fully  confirm- 
ed in  tiie  opinion,  that  its  great  value  consisted, 
not  in  any  set  of  metaphysical  doctrines,  but 
in  a  plain  exhibition  of  important  facts,  by 
means  of  which,  to  adopt  the  highly  figurative, 
but  strikingly  energetick  language  of  an  Apos- 
tle, "  We  are  begotten  again  to  a  lively  hope, 
by  the  resurrection  of  oiu*  Lord  Jesus  Clirist 
from  the  dead  ;"  that  "  as  he  lives,  so  we  sh.all 
live  also  :"  an  exhibition  fully  adequate  to  sup- 
ply the  most  powerful  motives  "  to  perfect  ho- 
liness, in  the  fear,  and  love  of  God." 

During  the  time  he  spent  at  Northampton, 
Mr.  Cappe  composed  a  short-hand  for  himself, 
on  principles  wholly  dissimilar  to  those  gene- 
rally in  use,  and  remarkable  for  its  neatness 
and  brevity.  This  short-hand  he  afterwards 
constantly  used :  he  made  a  grammar  of  it ; 
but  not  having  taught  it  to  any  of  his  pupils, 
it  is  probable  that  the  far  greater  part  (if  not 
the  whole)  of  his  valuable  labours  would 
have  been  lost  after  his  decease,  had  he  not 
latterly  been  prevailed  upon  to  dictate  from 
it  to  a  transcriber. 


IWt  or  THE  AUTH^TR.  *iv 

The    high   opinion  which  Dr.   Doddridge 
had  forned    of   the  talents,  disposition,  and 
attainments    of  his    pupil,    was    still   farther 
evinced   by  liim  in  the  summer  of    1751,   a 
little  before  the  time  when  it  was  expedient, 
on    account   of  his   own   declining    state    of 
health,  to  try  the  efficacy  of  a  warmer  climate. 
Having  been  desired  to  recommend  an  assist- 
ant preacher  to  the  celebrated  Dr.   Chandler, 
at  the  Old  Jewry  in  London,  he  fixed  upon 
Mr.  C;ippe,  then  only  in  his  nineteenth  year, 
and  recomiuended  him   so  strongly,  that  he 
was    invited   to   accept  the  situation,   one   of 
the    greatest    respectability   and   importance 
amongst  the  dissenters.     This   offer,  it  was 
imagined,  could  not  be  withstood  ;  but  the  la- 
borious student,  who  did  not  so  highly  appre- 
ciate his  own  attainments,  had  set  his  heart 
upon  going  to  Glasgow,  where  the  late  excel- 
lent Dr.  Leechman  then  filled  the  theological 
chair  ;  where  there  was  at  that  time  a  Constel- 
lation of  eminent  men,  and  where  he  hoped 
to  render  himself  better  qualified  for  the  im- 
portant discliarge  of  ministerial  duties,  than 
it  was  likely  he  ever  migbt  be,  if  he  engaged 
in  them  prematurely      Soon   after  this,  ])r. 
Doddridge  went  to  Bristol,  and  from  tlieuce 
to  Lisbon,  where  he  died  of  a  consumption 
in   November  following,  universally  beloved 
and  lamented.    Mr.  Cappe  remained  at  North- 
ampton during  the  remainder  of  the  session, 
under  Mr.  Samuel  Clarke  :   and,  in  the  year 


Mvi  LIFE  OF  THE   AUTHOR, 

17.? 2,  his  desire  af  removing  to  Glasgow  was 
gratified. 

A   person  who  is   at  all   in    the  habit  of 
"  marking  the  current  of  events,"  can  scarce- 
ly avoid  here  making  a  moment's   pause. — 
'J'hat  a  youth  of  an  ingenuous  reflecting  mind, 
who  had  been   carefully  educated  by  such  a 
father,  should  not  accede  to  the  proposition  of 
putting  himself  under  patronage  which  must 
have  been  followed  by  a  total  dereliction  of 
early  principle,  is  not  very  wonderful.      But, 
when  an  offer  was  made  of  a  situation  highly 
flattering  and  advantageous,  which  required 
no  such  sacrifice,  how  pure  and  ardent  must 
have  been  that  thirst  after  knowledge  which 
could  lead  to  the  rejection  of  it ! — Yet,  upon 
this   single   circumstance,  did  all  the  future 
events  of  Mr.  Cappe's  life  depend.     Had  he 
gone  at  so  early  a  period  to  have  been  the 
assistant  minister  with  Dr.   Chandler,   to   a 
London  congregation,  who  can  say,  after  such 
an  introduction,  to  what  celebrity  he   might 
afterwards   have  attained  ?    But  the   motives 
for  his  refusal  being  upright,  it  was   never, 
whilst  he  lived,  the  subject  of  a  moment's 
regret  that  he  did  not  accept  the  situation  : 
and    now,   having  finished  his    course    well, 
what  a  subject  of  thankfulness  will  it  for  ever 
be,  that  the    station   allotted  him   by  Provi- 
dence, and  acquiesced  in  with  his   own  free 
and  cheerful  consent ;   whatever,  at  the  time, 
were  its   privations,  its  trials    and    its    difli- 


LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR.  xxvii 

culties,  should  have  heeii  no  other  than  pre- 
cisely what  it  was  ! — For  who,  on  looking 
back  on  a  tempestuous  sea,  full  of  rocks  and 
quicksands,  which  they  have  passed  success- 
fully, would  not  revere  and  bless  the  pilot  by 
whose  wisdom  and  care  they  had  been  con- 
ducted in  safety,  by  whatever  course,  "  unto 
their  desired  haven  !" 

It  is  remarkable,  that  although  Mr.  Cappe 
spent  three  years  at  Northampton,  distant 
only  sixty-six  miles  from  the  metropolis, 
which,  in  common  with  other  young  men,  he 
wished  to  visit ;  stimulated  also,  as  1  have 
often  heard  him  say,  by  an  ardent  desire  of 
hearing  the  celebrated  Dr.  Sherlock,  and  of 
witnessing  the  inimitable  talents  of  the  no  less 
celebrated  Garrick,  both  at  that  time  in  the 
zenith  of  their  fame  ;  yet  he  never  once  made 
an  excursion  to  London.  He  had  previously 
formed  a  determined  resolution,  that  no  temp- 
tation should  lead  him  to  relax  his  studies  ; 
and  he  also  considered  it  as  a  duty  he  owed 
his  mother,  and  remaining  brother  and  sister, 
(who  at  the  death  of  their  father  were  not  left 
in  affluence,)  to  persevere,  as  he  had  begun, 
in  a  plan  of  the  strictest  economy. 

At  Glasgow  Mr.  Cappe  continued  three 
years,  pursuing  his  studies  with  such  unre- 
mitting ardour,  that  he  seldom  allowed  him- 
self more  than  four  or  five  hours  sleep,  in  the 
twenty-four.     A  consumption  had  nearly  been 


xfviii  LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR. 

the  consequence,  from  Avliicli  he  was  preserve 
ed,  under  the  blessing  of  Providence,  by  the 
friendly  care  and  judicious  treatment  of  tbe 
great  J3r.  CuUen,  then  a  professor  in  that  col- 
lege. Happy  in  the  successful  career  of  in- 
tellectual pursuits  ;  in  the  cordial  esteem  of 
Dr.  Leechraan,  principal  of  the  college  ;  in 
the  society  of  many  amiable  and  ingenious 
fellow-students,  a  few  of  whom  still  survive  ; 
in  the  friendship  of  the  different  professors, 
the  late  Dr.  Adam  Smith,  Dr.  Moore,  (esteem- 
ed the  most  eminent  Greek  scholar  in  Eu- 
rope,) and  the  late  Dr.  Black,  notwithstanding 
the  pressure  of  an  babitual  head-ache,  the 
days  and  weeks  flew  rapidly  away.  And 
here,  one  cannot  but  remark,  that  if  to  a  mind 
thus  constituted,  the  pleasure  arising  from  in- 
tellectual and  virtuous  progress  be  so  exqui- 
site, even  in  this  present  state  of  imperfection 
and  infirmity,  what  must  be  the  triumph,  (to 
quote  a  passage  from  some  of  his  manuscript 
sermons  on  Christian  perfection,  now  before 
me.)  when  we  are  arrived  in  those  nobler 
mansions  of  oui*  Father's  house,  '*  where  our 
acquisitions  shall  be  made,  if  not  without  exer- 
tion, yet  without  painfnl  exertion,  with  ease 
and  with  delight ;  where  there  shall  be  no 
mixture  of  evil  with  our  good,  of  errour  with 
our  knowledge,  of  discontesit  with  our  satis- 
faction, but  all  our  virtues  and  all  onr  enjoy- 
ments shall  be  for  ever  pure,  for  ever  lively  ; 
fearing  no  decline,  experiencin.ss'  no  hinjruor, 
but  proceeding,  without  interruption  and  with- 


LIFE  OF  THE   AUTHOR.  Mix 

out  allay,  nearer  and  still  nearer  to  the  bless* 
edness  and  holiness  of  God."  * 

The  reader  of  sensibility  will  forgive  me 
for  inserting  the  following  extract  from  the 
letter  of  a  venerable  minister  of  the  gosp<  1 
yet  living,  the  fellow  student,  and  intimate 
friend  of  Mr.  Cappe,  both  at  Northampton  and 
Glasgow,  after  receiving  a  copy  of  his  Me- 
moirs in  August,  1802.t 

''  T  opened  the  parcel  with  reverence,  and 
held  its  sacred  contents  to  my  view  with  an 
^we  peculiar  to  such  occasions.  But  when  I 
traced  the  many  thoughts  it  suggested  of  for- 
mer times  and  occurrences,  when  my  friend 
and  I  walked  toQ:ether  in  our  youthful  and  col- 
lege  days,  not  only  without  one  anxiety  or 
painful  care,  but,  I  will  say  to  you,  without 
one  sinful  indulgence,  even  for  a  moment ; 
happy  in  the  cultivation  of  useful  knowledge, 
and  of  every  virtuous  and  pious  disposition  ; 
you  will  readily  conceive  how  the  image  of 
my  loved  companion  renovated  my  delight- 
ful feelings. — How  it  led  me  from  walk  to 
walk,  and  poured  occurrences  one  after  another 
upon  my  joyful  recollection.  And  I  am 
thankful  to  say,  that  even  now,  in  my  75tli 
year,   I   not  only  clearly  review,  but  deeply 

*  The  Sermons  from  which  this  extract  was  taken,  form  part 
of  a  volume  chiefly  on  practical  subjects,  published  by  the  Editor  in 
181.'). 

+  The  late  Rev.  Mr.  Urwick  of  Clapham. 


XIX  LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR. 

feel  my  own  sensations.  Ours  was  then,  and 
always  continued  to  be,  a  religion  that  lifted 
the  heart  to  God  ;  that  spread  moral  senti- 
ments over  the  whole  mind,  and  moral  virtues 
over  the  whole  life.  Supported  by  the  divine 
doctrine  and  promises  of  the  gospel,  our  reli- 
gion disdained  and  defied  every  temptation  to 
immorality  the  w  orld  could  put  before  us. — I 

do  not  mean  by  all  this  to  boast." "  But  I 

could  not  forbear  writing  the  above,  on  this 
pressing  occasion,  in  honour  of  my  deceased 
friend,  and  brother,  and  in  order  to  express 
my  thankfulness  for  the  benefit  of  a  sound 
and  good  education  ;  for  being  taught,  even 
from  childhood,  amidst  all  the  diversity  of 
speculative  opinions,  and  in  due  depreciation 
of  them,  to  attend  to  the  practical  religion  of 
the  heart  and  life,  as  the  one  thing  needful." 

"  I  love  retrospection,  especially  when  I 

can  take  it  with  a  virtuous  and  religious  fel- 
low traveller,   who  lived  with  me  in   former 

times." "  My  friend  and  I  entertained   no 

doubt  of  recognizing  each  other  in  a  future 
state." — "  The  dead  are  not  perished,  we 
were  accustomed  to  say  to  each  other  as  we 
conversed  in  our  chambers,  or  walked  in  the 
fields  ;  they  must  live  for  ever,  and  thus  we 
usually  closed  our  discussions,  about  the  world 

to  come." "  This    hope    still   remains,   we 

were  intimate  and  cordial  friends  at  North- 
ampton, we  wei'e  as  much  or  more  so  at  Glas- 
gow, and  1  trust  we  shall  be  most  of  all  so  in 
a  much  better  and  more  exalted  state,  where 


LIFE  OF  THE  AtTTHOR.  Hxi 

every  good  thing*,  both  moral  and  intellectual, 
will  be  improving  for  ever." 

Here  we  cannot  but  remark,  that,  if  we 
may  trust  the  united  testimony  of  these  virtu- 
ous and  amiable  fellow  students,  and  why 
should  they  wish  to  deceive  us  ?  they  had 
even  in  their  youthful  days  abundantly  more 
true  enjoyment,  than  the  unprincipled  pur- 
suers of  licentious  pleasure.  And  should 
such  a  character,  in  spite  of  his  criminal  ex- 
cesses, attain,  like  the  writer  of  the  above,  to 
the  advanced  age  of  threescore  and  fifteen 
years,  and  accident  throw  in  his  way  tlie  me- 
moirs of  a  wretched  partaker  in  his  youthful 
crimes,  the  seducer  of  unwary  innocence,  who 
had  brought  down,  it  maj^  be,  many  a  hoary 
head,  with  sorrow  to  tlie  grave — witli  wliat 
sensations  would  the  narrative  be  perused  ? 
Would  tliey  sooth  and  cheer  his  own  rapid 
descent,  to  "  the  dark  and  narrow  house  ?"  Is 
he  lost  to  all  sense  of  moral  feeling  ?  Harden- 
ed in  the  ways  of  wickedness,  has  liis  mind 
become  reconciled  to  the  gloomy  and  abject 
hope  of  annihilation  ?  But  what,  if  the  perad- 
venture  should  occur  to  him,  that  death  may 
not  so  terminate,  that  he  and  his  abandoned 
companions  may  meet  again  ?  Would  any  one 
wish  to  inflict,  upon  his  bitterest  enemy,  a 
punishment  more  severe,  than  the  mere  hor- 
rour  of  such  a  possibility  ? 

Mr.  Cappe  left  Glasgow  in  May,  i755  ;  and 
in  the  November  following,  on  the  death  of 


xriii  LIFE  OF  THE   AUTHOR. 

Mr.  Root,  was  chosen  co-pastor  with  Mr.  Ho- 
thani  of  the  dissenting  chapel  in  St.  Saviour- 
gate,  York  ;  and,  on  the  death  of  Mr.  Hotham, 
the  beginning  of  the  ensuing  ycrir,  (May  26, 
17^6,)  he  was  ordained  sole  pastor  ;  in  \^hich 
situation  he  ever  afterwards  remained.  Of 
his  talents  as  a  preacher,  his  ardent  desire 
that  liis  hearers  might  not  only  understand 
the  principles  of  their  religion,  but  feel  its 
power  upon  their  hearts,  and  exemplify  its 
efficacy  to  others,  in  the  holiness  of  their  lives, 
the  reader  will  be  enabletl  to  form  some  esti- 
mate from  the  volume  of  Sermons  now  before 
him. 

His  first  publication,  a  sermon  preached  in 
November,  1757,  on  the  victory  of  Rosbach, 
gained  by  the  great  Frederick  of  Prussia,  hap- 
pening to  coincide  with  the  national  feelings 
of  tbat  day,  was  received  Avith  an  enthusiasm 
seldom  equalled.  It  was  taken  up  by  the  leadu 
ing  political  characters,  and  passed  through 
thirteen  editions  with  great  rapidity.  Some 
of  these  editions  were  instantly  bouQ^ht  by 
persons  of  the  first  eminence,  and  sold  at  re- 
duced prices  at  their  own  expense,  in  order  to 
promote  the  general  circulation.  The  late 
Jolin  Lee,  Ksq.  then  of  Lincoln's  Inn,  and 
afterwards  attorney-general,  during  the  admi- 
nistr  ition  of  lord  Rockingham,  in  a  letter  now 
before  me.  passes  the  hio^hest  encomiums  on 
this  discourse.  w!sic!i  he  says  was  the  univer- 
sal topick  of  conversation  and  of  praise  :    and 


LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR.  ixxiii 

then  adds  :  "  Of  the  multitude  of  readers  that 
Loudon  has  afforded  you,  and  several  of  taste 
and  ingenuity  I  have  knoAvn,  not  one  of  them 
has  been  sparing  of  the  highest  praise  they 
could  bestow  ;  and  you  will  not  be  offended 
with  the  compliment  of  lord  Ligonier,  who, 
after  reading  it  last  Sunday,  said,  he  thought 
Mr.  Cappe  preached  as  well  as  the  king  of 
Prussia  fought." 

Of  the  manner  of  this  sermon,  I  shall  give 
the  following  short  specimen  :  "  It  is  Provi- 
dence that  displays  to  us  the  most  astonish- 
mg,  the  grandest,  and  the  fairest  views  of 
the  divine  perfections  :  It  is  providence  that 
pleads,  with  the  most  powerful  persuasion, 
the  cause  of  virtue  and  religion  :  It  is  provi- 
dence that  enlivens  us  in  the  praise  of  God, 
that  banishes  all  fear  from  our  love  of  him, 
and  all  doubt  from  our  confidence  in  his  go- 
vernment. The  giddy  overlook  her  ;  the  busy 
are  deaf  unto  her  voice.  Plappy  he,  who, 
sometimes  reth'ing  from  the  throng  and  the 
noise  of  life,  stands  as  it  were  at  a  distance, 
an  undisturbed  spectator  of  its  events.  He 
sees  the  hand  of  God  moving  and  directing 
the  vast  machine.  He  hears  the  voice  of 
providence,  like  that  which  John  in  vision 
heard,  as  the  voice  of  a  great  multitude,  and 
as  the  voice  of  many  waters,  and  as  the  voice 
of  many  thunderings,  saying  Alleluia,  for 
the  Lord  God  Almighty  and  All-gracious 
reigneth." 


xxxiv  UVK  OK  THE   AUTHOR. 

Celebrity  like  this  might  well  haye  intoxi- 
cated the  miiul  of  a  young  author ;  that  it 
(lid  not,  in  this  instance,  produce  any  such 
consequence,  tlie  reader  may  probahly  be  pre- 
pared to  expect.  So  ftjr,  indeed,  in  the  mid- 
dle and  later  periods  of  life,  Avas  IMr.  Cappe 
from  thinking  or  speaking  of  this  sermon 
with  pleasure,  tlnit  he  never  called  it  by  any 
other  denomination,  than  that  of  my  folly. 
His  mind  was  sensibly  pained  with  the  re- 
flexion, that  in  a  moment  of  youthful  ardour, 
he  should  have  appeared  as  an  advocate  for 
employing  the  sword  in  defence  of  religious 
truth  :  being  fully  persuaded  that  true  chris- 
tianit}^  is  wholly  inimical  to  such  an  appeal ; 
that  its  genuine  conquests  are  those  of  the 
heart ;  and  that  "  the  wrath  of  man  worketh 
not  the  righteousness  of  God." 

In  October  1759,  Mr.  Cappe  married  the 
eldest  daughter  of  Mr.  William  Turner,  mer- 
chant in  Hull :  in  whose  amiable  society  he 
passed  thirteen  years  of  much  happiness, 
although  tried  by  many  disappointments  and 
heavy  afflictions.  Among  these  were  some 
considerable  pecuniary  losses,  occasioned  by 
the  failure  in  trade  of  two  near  relatives  ;  their 
subsequent  sickness,  and  death,  under  his 
own  roof;  the  loss  of  two  infant  children  ; 
and,  last  of  all,  the  declining  state  of  Mrs. 
Cappe's  health.  She  lingered  more  than  two 
years,  and  then  died  of  a  consumption,  in  the 


LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR.  xxxv 

spring  of  1773,  leayiiig*  him  with  six  young 
children. 

Of  the  temper  of  mind  with  which  he  sus- 
tained these  afflictions,  the  most  honourable, 
and,  to  the  eye  of  friendship,  the  most  sooth- 
ing testimony  remains,  in  a  series  of  dis- 
courses, from  which  three  are  selected  in  this 
volume,  and  which  were  composed  by  him 
when  under  their  severest  pressure,  from  the 
exhortation  of  the  Apostle  Paul  to  his  Phi- 
lippian  converts,  then  suffering  under  perse- 
cution :  "  Be  careful  for  nothing,  but  in  every 
tiling,  by  prayer  and  supplication,  with  thanks- 
giving, let  your  requests  be  made  known  unto 
God." 

During  this  period  also,  Mr.  Cappe  incur- 
red the  loss  of  the  Rev.  Edward  Sandercock  ; 
a  friend  whom  he  highly  esteemed  ;  whose 
amiable  and  enlightened  mind  gave  peculiar 
interest  to  the  social  hour ;  and  whose  kind 
assistance,  in  his  weekly  ministerial  labours, 
saved  him  many  an  exertion,  which  frequent 
indisposition,  or  family  misfortune,  would 
have  rendered  oppressive. 

This  gentleman  died  in  January  1770,  iu 
the  sixty-ninth  year  of  his  age.  The  last 
tribute  of  respect  and  affection  was  paid  by 
his  friend,  in  an  address  spoken  at  liis  grave, 
and  in  a  sermon  delivered  afterwards  to  a  very 
numerous  audience  ;  both  of  which  were  pub- 


xaxTi  LIFE   OF   THE   ALTHOR. 

lished  by  general  desire,  but  are  now  out  of 
print.*  From  the  address,  1  shall  give  the 
following  extract. 

*  Of  the  last  moments  of  this  excellent  person,  I  meet  with  the 
following  account  in  Mr.  Cappe's  handwriting,  in  a  pocketbook  : 
"  Having  thought  that  I  saw  in  him  the  symptoms  of  instant  death,  I 
sat  down  at  the  head  of  the  bed,  and  for  some  minutes  expected  every 
breath  to  be  his  last  :  perceiving,  however,  that  he  grew  rather  bet- 
ter, I  administered  to  him  a  little  of  his  cordial,  and  he  presently 
revived,  so  far  as  to  call  to  me  on  my  sitting  down  again, — *  Mr.  Cap- 
pe.'  I  rose,  and  answered,  'Sir?''  He  looked  as  if  he  would  say 
something  :  finding  that  he  did  not,  I  asked,  '  Would  you  have  a  little 
more  of  your  cordial  ?'  '  IVo.' — I  waited  some  time,  in  expeclauon 
that  he  would  speak  to  me,  and  then  asked,  *  Would  you  have  any 
thing  else  ?'  ■  No.' — I  waited  still  some  time,  persuaded  that  he  had 
something  to  utter  ;  but  fearing  that  it  might  slip  from  him,  after  a 
little  pause,  I  asked,  '  What  would  you  have,  sir  ?'  '  My  good  friend, 
farewell.'  I  could  stand  no  longer  ;  but  by  and  by.  finding  him 
attempting  to  speak  again,  I  rose,  and  stood  leaning  over  him  .  he 
seemed  to  be  pleased  with  the  attention  that  was  given  to  him,  and 
said  to  me,  in  a  broken  voice,  and  interrupted  sentences,  '  1  am  nmv 
sati'ified  that  in  these  scenes  of  death  there  is  nothing  irreconcilcable 
with  the  moral  perceptions,  (meaning,  undoubtedly,]  perfections  of 
God — I  sufler — I  have  many  consolations — 1  hope  I  shall  have  pauence 
to  the  end — the  end  is  not  far.'  He  prayed  to  God  to  bless  me,  my 
children,  and  all  my  family.  He  then  recommended  IV.rs.  J^andercock 
and  all  her  friends  to  God;  and  immediately  afterwards,  addressing 
himself  to  me,  desired  she  might  know  that  he  was  very  thankful  for 
all  her  kindness  to  him  ;  and  expressed  his  hope  that  she  would  consi- 
der it  as  what  she  owed  in  gratitude  to  God.  to  bear  a  short  separa- 
tion with  resignation  and  cheerfulness,  for  she  had  still  many  mercies 
to  he  thankful  for.  '  Now,'  said  he,  '  my  good  friend,  you  may  sit 
down  :  if  it  were  not  for  this  oppression,  I  conid  sleep.'  He  did  fall 
asleep  almost  immediately,  and  slept  for  a  considerable  time  with 
great  tranquillity." 

A  neat  marble  monument  was  erected  to  his  memory  in  the  chapel 
in  St.  Saviourgate,  in  York,  by  his  widow.  The  inscription,  written 
by  Mr.  Cappe,  is  as  follows  : 

To  the  memory 
Of  the  Reverend  Edward  Sandercock, 

An  able  and  faithful  Mioister  of  Jesus  Christ. 
Devoted  to  his  Master's  service, 
He  pursued  it,  and  delighted  in  it, 
Till  he  died. 
Let  this  monuniental  Marble  remind  those  who  heard  him, 
How  his  private  virtues  illustrated  and  enforced  his  publick  teachings  ; 
And  engage  them  to  be  followers  of  him, 
As  he  was  of  Christ. 

Two  volumes  of  sermons  written  by  this  gentlemaD>  were  after- 
wards published  by  Mr.  Cappe. 


LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR.  sxxvii 

"  To  the  earth  we  have  committed  all  that 
was  earthly  of  a  Christian  brother,  of  a  faith- 
ful minister,  of  a  much  esteemed  and  well-be- 
loved friend.  There  we  have  left,  in  that 
laud  of  silence,  and  forgetfulness,  all  that  re- 
mains in  this  world,  of  one,  concerning  whom, 
your  heart-felt  grief,  on  this  occasion,  testifies 
that  you  numbered  him  among  the  wisest, 
the  worthiest,  the  most  devout,  the  most 
friendly,  and  the  most  amiable  of  mankind. 
How  different  in  this  day,  from  those  happy 
days,  gone  to  return  no  more,  when  with  him 
we  were  accustomed  to  take  sweet  counsel 
together,  and  walked  to  this  house  of  God  in 
company  !  How  different  is  this  season,  from 
those  happy  seasons,  gone  to  return  no  more, 
when  his  devotion  animated  our  devotions 
here,  and  his  lips  distilled  wisdom  !  How  dif- 
ferent the  dead,  from  the  living  friend  !  How 
different  this  house  of  God,  which  once  was 
his  exceeding  joy,  from  the  house  that  he  now 
inhabiteth  !  Yet  that,  my  friends,  is  the  house 
appointed  for  all  the  living.  There,  you,  by 
and  by,  must  make  yom*  bed.  Great  as  the 
difference  is  between  the  living  and  the  dead, 
that  change  must  pass  on  you.  There  is  a 
day,  at  what  distance  no  man  knows,  but 
every  man  will  acknowledge  that  it  may  be 
very  near,  when  our  places  shall  be  vacant, 
both  in  God's  house,  and  in  our  own ;  when 
the  tears  of  friendship  shall  bedew  our  clay- 
cold  bodies  ;  when  our  funeral  shall  pass 
along  the  sti^eets  ;   and  the  gazing  multitude 


XMviii  LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR. 

shall   be    gathered  round   our   open    graves. 
What  think  jou  of  these  scenes  ?    Is  there 
nothing  serious  in  them  ?    Is  there   nothing 
important   after   them  ?     Are  you   ready  for 
them  ?    Are  you  fit  for  death  ?    Are  you  pre- 
pared for  judgment  ?    Are  you  provided  for 
eternity  ?    Is  it  certain  that  you  are  ? — From 
my  heart  I  rejoice  with  you,  for  death  cannot 
hurt,  though  he  lay  his  hand  on  you  to-night. 
Nay,  it  would  be  better  with  you  than  it  is,  if 
you  were  sleeping  by  our  faithful  friend.     The 
living  may  apostatize  from  the  paths  of  vir- 
tue ;  but  to  those  who  are  dead  in  Christ,  who 
have  continued  patient   in  well-doing  to  the 
end,  all  that  heaven  means,  and  all  that  God 
has  promised,  is  secure.      W  atch  and  pray, 
be  faithful  and  devout,  preserve  yoiu*  virtue, 
dispatch  your  work,  improve  your  talents,  for 
blessed  are  those  servants  whom  their  Lord 
when  he  cometh  shall  find  watching." 

In  the  year  1771,  a  literary  club  was  insti- 
tuted in  York,  of  which  Mr.  Cappe  was  the 
planner,  if  not  tlie  first  proposer,  and  which 
was  kept  up  nearly  twenty  jears.  It  consist- 
ed originally  of  seven  members.  Dr.  Swains- 
ton,  the  Bev.  Dr.  xllhuison.  chaplain  to  the 
House  of  Commons,  the  Eev  Mr.  Howlett, 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Tillard,  rector  of  Wirks worth  in 
Derbyshire.  George  Lloyd,  Esq.  3Ir.  John 
Hotham,  nephew  of  the  late  minister,  and 
Mr.  Cappe  :  Dr.  Hunter,  Henry  Goodi'icke, 
Esq.   Dr.  White,  and  Mr.  Cappe's  eldest  son. 


LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR.  xxxix 

were  afterwards  admitted  members.  The 
number  was  limited  to  nine  ;  and  as  vacancies 
happened,  the  places  were  supplied. 

The  members  of  the  club  met  in  rotation 
at  each  others'  houses,  every  Wednesday  at 
&ye  o'clock  ;  when,  according  to  the  rules  they 
had  agreed  upon,  a  given  subject  was  dis- 
cussed ;  which  must  have  been  proposed  and 
approved  the  preceding  Wednesday,  and  en- 
tered in  a  book  kept  for  the  purpose.  The 
discussion  was  to  be  conducted  in  the  way  of 
inquiry,  rather  than  debate  ;  every  member 
to  contribute  whatever  might  be  his  informa- 
tion or  discovery  respecting  it,  to  the  gene- 
ral stock  of  knowledge.  They  had  no  other 
refreshment  than  coffee  and  tea  ;  and  tlie  club 
broke  up  precisely  at  nine  o'clock. 

I  shall  select  a  few  of  the  questions  propos- 
ed by  Mr.  Cappe,  as  a  specimen. 

"  AYhat  judgment  ought  to  be  formed  of 
the  conduct  of  Abauchas,  in  the  story  told  of 
him  towards  the  end  of  Lucian's  Texaris  ?" 

"  What  are  the  rights  of  man  over  the  ani- 
mal creation,  and  what  the  principles  by  which 
they  are  limited  ?" 

"  The  senses  of  taste  and  smell ;  their  con- 
nexion :  and  the  final  causes  of  both.'' 


xl  LIFE   OF  THE  AUTHOR. 

"  The  human  stature,  its  varieties,  the  li- 
mits of  those  varieties,  and  the  efficient  and 
final  causes,  of  those  varieties,  and  of  their 
limitations.'* 

"  The  discovery  of  the  polarity  of  the  mag- 
net, and  the  fruits  and  consequences  of  that 
discovery." 

"  The  influence  of  diet,  considered  in  re- 
spect of  quantity  as  well  as  qualit}'  of  the 
food,  both  upon  the  bodily  constitution,  and 
the  mental  powers  and  dispositions." 

"  The  influence  of  a  great  and  growing 
capital  on  the  manners  and  prosperity  of  a 
nation." 


"  The   origin  of  sea-salt,  and   the  uses  of 
it." 


"  The  powers  and  pleasures  of  imagina- 
tion. Do  they  not  decline  in  the  progj'ess  of 
life  ?  And  of  that  decline,  what  are  the  effi- 
cient and  final  causes  ?" 

"  The  character  of  M  ahomet :  Was  he  a 
fanatick,  or  an  impostor  ?" 

"  The  true  sense  of  Aristotle's  definition  of 
the  end  of  tragedy." 

"  The  art  of  writing  ;  the  modes,  materials, 
and  instruments  of  it  j  and  the  consequences 
of  this  invention." 


LIFE  OF  THE   AUTHOR.  xli 

"  The  annual  changes  that  take  place  in 
some  species  of  the  animal  creation  ;  their 
efficient  and  final  causes." 

"  Contagion  of  diseases  :  Its  nature,  extent, 
efficient,  and  final  causes." 

"  Lavater's  physiognomy." 

'•  The  infancy  of  mankind  compared  with 
that  of  otlier  animals." 

"  Different  modes  of  disposing  of  the  dead 
bodies  of  mankind." 

"  Comparative  merits  of  natural  and  civil 
history,  considered  as  two  distinct  sources  of 
entertainment  and  improvement." 

"  The  connexion  between  the  colour  of 
vegetable  bodies  and  other  sensible  qualities  ; 
and  tlie  dependence  of  both  on  light." 

'•  English  juries." 

•'  The  proper  subjects  of  musick." 

"  ^Vhat  advantages  are  derived  or  may  be 
derived  to  man  from  the  faculties  of  the 
brute  creation  ?" 

"  Variety  of  seasons,  compared  with  the 
uniformity    of   them,    in   respect   to   the  in- 

F 


xlii  LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR. 

fluence  of  eacli  on  the  health,  the  comfort, 
and  the  talents  of  mankind." 

"  Comparison  of  the  denal  and  duodenal 
arithmetick." 

"  MigTation  of  fishes." 

"  The  mode  of  inflicting  capital  punish- 
ments." 

"  The  condition  of  old  people,  in  respect 
of  sight,  before  the  discovery  of  dioptrick 
glasses." 

"  Is  it  consistent  with  good  policy  to  per- 
mit the  perpetual  and  unlimited  accumulation 
of  charitable  donations  and  bequests  ?" 

"  Culinary  salt,  the  origin,  the  use,  and  the 
need  of  it  to  men  and  other  animals." 

"  In  what  respects  are  the  indications  of 
nature  to  be  the  rule  of  human  conduct,  and 
how  are  these  indications  to  be  discovered 
and  interpreted  ?" 

"  Of  the  real  use  of  the  knowledge  of 
medals,  and  other  such  monuments  of  anti- 
quity." 

The  close  of  the  year  i773  was  rendered 
peculiarly  interesting  to  the  writer  of  these 


LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR.  xliii 

memoirs,  by  the  resignation  of  the  vicarage 
of  Catterick,  in  Yorkshire,  on  motives  purely 
conscientious,  by  her  highly-honoured  and 
esteemed  friend,  the  Rev.  Theophilus  Lind- 
sey,  the  successor  of  her  father  in  that  bene- 
fice. Of  that  gentleman,  so  well  known  to 
the  world,  and  happily  still  living,  it  may  not 
be  permitted  her  to  speak  ;*  but  that  such  a 
character,  in  circumstances  of  peculiar  dif- 
ficulty and  distress  ;  distress,  of  which  no  one 
who  is  not  acquainted  with  all  the  circum- 
stances whence  it  arose,  and  who  was  not 
present  during  the  scene,  can  form  an  ade- 
quate idea :  that  such  a  character  should  have 
been  rudely  attacked,  at  such  a  time,  in  the 
publick  papers,  is  an  instance  of  human  de- 
pravity hardly  to  be  credited.  But  what  is 
too  malignant  for  a  bigot,  without  piety,  to 
attempt? 

The  attack  was  made,  by  a  dignitary  of  the 
church,t  in  the  York  Chronicle  of  January  38, 
1774,  under  the  signature  of  "  Erasmus." 
This  attack,  illiberal  and  abusive  in  the  ex- 
treme, w  as  repelled,  in  a  very  spirited  and 
masterly  way,  by  Mr.  Cappe,  who  showed  on 
this,  and  on  a  few  other  occasions,  that,  when 

*  The  above  was  written  in  t!ie  year  1805.  This  highly  ve- 
nerated friend  exchanged  his  earthly  tabernacle  lor  a  heavenly  in- 
heritance, in  November  1808,  and  a  very  interesting  raeinoir  of 
him  was  published  by  Mr.  Belsham,  of  Essex  Street,  in  1812.— 
Editor. 

f  The  late  Dr.  Cooper,  rector  of  Kirbywhiske,  and  arch-deacon  of 
York. 


xliT  LIFE   OF  THE   AUTHOK. 

powerfully  excited  in  defence  of  integrity  and 
truth,  he  did  not  less  excel  on  subjects  that 
led  to  controversy,  than  in  other  compositions 
better  suited  to  lii^?  habits  and  liis  taste.  His 
first  reply  was  signed  "  A  Lover  of  Good 
Men,"  and  introduced  by  tlie  folioAving  quo- 
tation from  some  printed  sermons  of  Dr. 
Cooper's,  taken  as  a  motto  :  "  An  alacrity  in 
calumniating,  is  one  of  tliose  abominable 
qualities  which  the  devil  himself  possesses 
in  an  eminent  degree  ;  he  is  called  tlie  ad- 
versary, tlic  hater,  the  accusei*  of  the  breth- 
ren." Discourses  by  William  Cooper,  M.  A. 
1766,  p.  80.  So  high  was  the  esteem  in 
which  Mr.  Lindsey  was  universally  held,  and 
so  general  tlie  indio'UJition  excited  bv  this  vi- 
rulent  attack,  that  no  less  tbau  four  different 
replies  to  it,  fi*om  different  pens,  under  the 
signatures  of  "  A  Layman,"  "  A  Parishioner," 
"  Pro  Amico."  and  "Martin,"  appeared  in  the 
Chronicle  of  the  following  Aveek.  There  was 
also  a  paper  signed  "  Pliilo  Erasmus,"  meant 
as  a  reply  to  the  "  Lover  of  o^ood  Men ;"  in 
Avhich  the  writer,  (S^rasmus  himself.)  deno- 
minates his  unknown  antagonist  "a  doughty 
champion,"  who,  he  tells  the  editor,  "  is  hor- 
ridlv  encumbered  with  his  heavy  armour." 
The  signature  of  "douglity  champion,"  tliere- 
ibre,  was  iiumourously  adopted  by  Mr.  Cappe. 
ill  his  subsequent  i-eplies  to  •"•  Philo  Eras- 
mus," "Timothy  quick  eye,"  and  "  Bucer," 
the  signatures  of  Dr.  CoO{)er,  A  variety  of 
other  writers,  many  of  tlsem  persons  un- 
f 


LIFE  OF  THE   ADTnOR.  x\r 


kno^i^,  came  forward,  on  the  defensive,  in 
the  course  of  the  controversy,  under  the  va- 
rious si.^natures  of  "  Apicius  secundus,"  "  Da- 
vid Simple,"  "  Emlyn  junior,"  "Admonitor," 
•'  Biblicns,"  '•  Thomas  Stave,  the  parish 
clerk,"  "Disconsolate  Mark,"  "One  of  the 
People,"  ^c.  ^c.  The  "  doughty  champion," 
however,  continued  to  hold  the  first  place, 
and  "  Erasmus"  was  at  length  completely 
driven  oif  the  field,  beyond  the  possibility  of 
return.* 

It  was  on  this  occasion,  that  tlie  writer  of 
these  memoirs  became  first  acquainted  with 
the  subject  of  them,  and  that  the  foundation 
was  laid  of  that  friendship,  which  although 
death  may  interrupt,  it  cannot  destroy  ;  and 
which,  she  humbly  trusts,  will  be  renewed 
and  perfected,  where  "  there  shall  be  no  more 
death,  neither  sorrow  nor  tears,"  and  "  where 
God  himself  shall  be  for  ever  present." 

During  this  year,  (1774.)  Mr.  Cappe  was 
afflicted  by  a  distressing  and  alarming  com- 
plaint. For  some  months  every  object  ap- 
peared double,  wjiicli  obliged  him  to  wear 
spectacles,  with  one  of  the  glasses  darkened ; 

*  Towards  the  toncliision  of  tlie  ('ontrover>y.  tin-  (oilowin^  epigram 
was  sent  to  the  editor  of  the  ncv-spaper  by  an  iiiikiiown  hand  : 

"  Snre  i>eaten  and  hruised,  hear,  the  Do<;tor  cries  out, 
What  means  all  tliis  rao:e,  ai!  this  riot  and  ront? 
What  offence  at  Erasniii?,  that  down  ho  must  (all, 
Kxainine,  veu'll  find,  he:  said — Nothing  at  all." 


xlvi  LIFE   OF   THE   AUTHOR. 

lie  persevered,  however,  in  his  ministerial  and 
other  labours  :  althoiijjh  it  may  well  be  ima- 
gined  that  the  exertion  was  not  easy. 

In  the  Auji'ust  of  1776.  he  had  the  afflic- 
tion of  burning  his  mother,  who  died  in  this 
city,  in  the  seventy-sixth  year  of  her  age  : 
she  was  a  person  of  great  virtue,  and  exem- 
plary piety.  After  this  event,  liis  sister  came 
to  live  with  him ;  and  to  lier  kind  attention, 
and  affectionate  cai*e,  his  young  family  were 
under  the  greatest  obligation. 

Early  in  the  year  1777,  Mr.  Cappe  publish- 
ed a  sermon,  preached  on  the  13th  of  the 
preceding  December ;  a  day  set  apart  for  a 
general  fast,  during  the  American  war.  This 
sermon,  not  being  equally  in  unison  with  the 
national  prejudices  of  the  day.  was  not  fitted, 
like  that  on  the  victory  of  the  king  of  Prus- 
sia, to  become  the  theme  of  general  praise  : 
But^  in  the  judgment  of  the  truly  discerning, 
it  ruised  his  character,  as  a  preacher,  to  the 
first  eminence.  It  quickly  went  through  two 
editions  :  aud  the  highest  encomiums  were 
passed  upon  it  by  men  of  great  celebrity.  In 
a  letter  now  before  me,  dated  April  S8,  1777, 
Mr.  Lee  speaks  of  this  sermon  in  the  follow- 
ing terms  :  **  Sir  Geoi'ge  Sa>  ile,  happening  to 
call  on  me  a  fortnight  since,  on  a  Sunday 
morning,  I  showed  him  your  sermon,  and  read 
liim  several  parts  of  it.  He  was  delighted 
beyond  measure  witli    it,  insisted  on  taking  it 


LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR.  Jtlrii 

away  with  him,  and  expressed  some  astonish- 
ment that  he  had  not  before  heard  a  great 
deal  of  it :  1  have  seen  him  frequently  since, 
and  he  lias  never  failed  repeating  his  admira- 
tion, in  terms  that  do  him  and  you  equal  ho- 
nour. He  sent  to  Johnson  for  seven  or  eight 
copies,  but  none  are  to  be  had ;  and  he  was 
strongly  disposed  to  take  a  liberty  ^vith  you, 
by  giving  orders  to  print  a  new  edition  of  it, 
without  your  knowledge.  He  has  shown  my 
copy  to  many  eminent  men,  particularly  to 
Mr.  Burke,  who  dining  with  me  the  other  day, 
told  me  that  he  concurred  in  sir  George's 
opinion  of  the  performance.  It  has  been 
read  by  many  in  the  house  of  commons  ;  and 
last  night  the  duke  of  Portland  sent  me  a 
card,  to  desire  1  would  give  liim  an  opportuni- 
ty of  reading  it.  I  had  no  othei*  but  that 
which  you  were  so  obliging  as  to  send  me  ; 
but  I  borrowed  one  of  Mr.  Lindsey,  and  sent 
it  to  his  grace,  who,  I  since  find,  had  such  a 
taste  of  part  of  it  from  sir  George  Savile,  as 
gave  him  an  eager  longing  for  the  rest.  Per- 
haps this  may  produce  no  other  consequence 
than  that  of  introducing  you  to  the  acquain- 
tance of  sir  G.  Savile,  whose  company,  I  think, 
you  will  like,  and  exciting  a  desire  in  some 
other  eminent  men,  who  will  find  it  more 
difficult  to  come  at  you  than  he  will,  unless 
next  year  you  will  do  me  the  favour  to  visit 
us  here,  which  I  much  wish." 

As  this  sermon  has  long  been  out  of  print, 
and  as  some  of  my  readers  may  be   gratified 


xlvriii  LIFE  OF  THE   AUTHOR. 

bj  seeing  a  specimen  of  what  was  so  highly 
praised  by  these  eminent  persons,  I  shall 
subjoin  tlie  following  extracts. 

"  If  to  be  christians  in  name  would  sup- 
port our  hope,  there  were  little  need  ot  this 
day's  humiliations  :  But  if  to  give  success  to 
our  prayers  it  be  needful  that  we  be  chris- 
tians indeed  and  in  truth,  however  you  may 
speak  peace  to  your  own  souls,  I  know  no 
warrant  to  justify  your  security  and  confi- 
dence :  For,  tell  me,  though  we  rank  among 
the  first  of  christian  countries,  is  the  charac- 
ter of  this  country  christian  ?  To  what  could 
you  appeal  in  support  of  that  assertion  ? 

"  Would  you  allege  in  proof  of  it,  that  we 
have  learnt  to  call  the  vilest  vices  by  the  soft- 
est names  ?  that  intemperance  is  exalted  into 
sociality ;  lewdness,  into  gayety  ;  adultery, 
into  gallantry ;  pi'of\ineness  and  obscenity, 
into  vivacity  and  spirit ;  frivolousness,  into 
fashionableness,  and  hypocrisy  into  politeness? 
Would  you  produce  in  proof  of  it  that  we 
have  learnt  to  call  tlie  no]»lest  virtues  by  the 
most  ignominious  aj)pellations  ?  that  devotion, 
is  enthusiasm  ;  that  conscientiousness,  is  scru- 
pulosity ;  that  integritv,  is  obstinacy ;  that 
non-conformity  to  fashionable  though  unrea- 
sonable opinions,  and  to  polite  though  im- 
moral practices,  is  superstition,  w  eakness,  and 
preciseness  ?  Arc  those  the  proofs  of  our 
christianitv  ? 


LIFE  OF  THK  AUTHOR.  xlii 

"  ^Vill  joii  go  into  our  streets  and  thence 
collect  the  evidences  of  intemperance,  sensu- 
ality, and  profaneness,  which  will  not  fail 
very  soon  to  meet  you  there  ?* — Will  you  go 
into  the  scenes  of  mercantile  and  commercial 
life,  and  thence  collect  the  selfish  projects, 
the  ordinary  deceptions,  the  authorized  frauds, 
the  systematick  over-reachings  which  tradi- 
tion, not  reason,  whicli  custom,  not  religion, 
have  sanctified  ?  will  you  thence  collect  the 
instances  of  those  who,  hastening  to  be  rich, 
have  fallen  into  divers  snares  ;  who,  impa- 
tient of  poverty,  of  mediocrity,  of  infer iour 
afiluence,  through  the  instigation  of  avarice 
or  ambition,  have  from  day  to  day  adventur- 
ed, and  at  length  accomplished,  the  ruin  of 
many  other  families  as  well  as  of  their  own  ? 
— Will  you  go  into  the  scenes  of  publick  en- 
tertainment, and  there,  in  the  most  innocent 
of  such  scenes,  observe  a  sight  conspicuous 
indeed  to  the  serious  eye,  the  ministers  of 
luxury  and  vanity,  the  panders  of  an  out- 
rageous appetite  for  pleasure,  more  punctual- 
ly met,  more  freely  attended,  and,  almost 
beyond  credit,  more  liberally  rewarded  than 
the  ministers  of  virtue,  the  instructers  of 
youth,  and  the  dispensers  of  the  bread  of  life  ? 

*  W^liat  a  source  of  consolation  would  it  not  have  been  to  the  au- 
thor, could  he  have  foreseen  the  strenuous  exertions  of  the  liberal 
friends  and  supporters  of  those  two  most  noble  sister  institutions, 
the  British  and  Foreign  Bible,  and  School  Societies,  so  effectual  in 
their  tendency  to  prevent  these  enormities  !  Assuredly  he  would 
have  felt  and  acknowledged  with  holy  triumph,  "  this  is  the  Lord's 
doing,  and  it  is  marvellous  in  our  eyes." — F.nnoR. 


1  LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR. 

Will  you  cliange  the  scenes  of  publick  enter- 
tainment for  the  scenes  of  publick  devotion, 
will  you  there  collect  the  giddy  crowds  who 
go  thither  for  no  better  purposes  than  those 
which  carry  them  to  every  other  concourse  ? 
will  you  there  collect  the  formalist  whose  re- 
ligion rests  in  the  hearing  of  the  word  and  the 
praying  of  the  prayer  ? — Will  you  quit  these 
publick  scenes  for  scenes  more  retired  and 
domestick  ?  will  you  thence  collect  the  unin- 
teresting, insipid,  unedifying  conversation  ? 
will  you  there  observe  how  fast  time  flows, 
and  how  folly  flows  as  fast  ?  will  you  observe 
how  seldom  the  bounds  of  innocence  are 
kept;  how  commonly  such  assemblies  are 
erected  into  uncandid  and  iniquitous  tribu- 
nals, where  the  practices,  the  manners,  the 
customs,  the  conduct  of  others,  as  innocent  as 
our  own,  are  tried  by  our  own  prejudices,  and 
by  that  test  condemned  ;  where  the  afl'airs  of 
others  occupy  an  officious  concern,  while  our 
own  most  important  affairs,  both  in  compa- 
ny and  in  solitude,  are  neglected  ;  in  such 
scenes  will  you  observe  hoAv  often  some  ab- 
sent character  is  sacrificed  to  pride,  to  self- 
conceit,  to  malignity  and  ill-will. — From  these 
less  publick,  will  you  go  into  still  more  pri- 
vate scenes  of  life  ?  will  you  inquire  into  the 
government  of  servants  ;  into  the  education  of 
children:  will  you  produce  me  some  evidence 
of  our  Christianity  from  these  ? — If  servants 
serve  their  masters,  what  care  is  there  wheth- 
er they  serve  God  or  not  ?  if  children  are  ac- 


LIFE  OF  THE   AUTHOR.  li 

complished,  what  care  is  there  whether  they 
be  good  ? 

"  Education  is  not  formed  against  the  worki, 
but  for  it ;  not  to  arm  us  against  temptations, 
but  to  betray  us  to  them. — To  live,  to  shine, 
these  are  the  objects  of  education,  which  sel- 
dom rises   higlier,  in  one  half  of  the   world, 
than  the  attainment  of  some  mechanick  or  some 
liberal  art ;  and  in  the  other  half,  than  the  acqui- 
sition of  external  accomplishments.    To  live 
well,  unblameably,  laudably,  and  usefully;  to  be 
adorned  with  the  true  beauty  of  universal  unaf- 
fected virtue  ;  toshineinthe  solidglories  of  pure 
and  undefiled  religion,  is  this  the  object  of  the 
many  ?  their  object  for  themselves  ?  their  ob- 
ject for  their    children  ? — Are  the  houses   of 
their  fathers    to    the    rising   generation   the 
schools    of  piet},   of  self-goAcrnment,   of  so- 
ber-mindedness ?     Alas,  here  it  is  that  they 
first  learn  to  neglect  their  Creator,  and  to  ne- 
glect their  souls.     Here  it  is   that  they  first 
imbibe  the   principles  of  frivolism,  of  vanity, 
of  extravagance.     Here  it  is  that  they  learn  to 
make  amusement  the  end  of  life.     Here  it  is 
that  they  early  receive  those  impressions,  and 
acquire  those  habits  which  preclude   the  pos- 
sibility of  acquiring  a  taste  for  real  pleasui'e, 
and   a   capacity  of  solid  worth.     Here  it  is 
that  they  learn  to   seek   for  happiness  from 
abroad,  to  go  abroad  in  quest  of  it,  and  to  fetch 
it  in,  as  they  expect,  from  every  thing  that 


m  LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR. 

smiles  and  glitters  in  the  eye  of  vain  imagi- 
nation. Here  it  is  that  they  learn  to  admire 
what  is  not  admirable,  to  love  what  is  not 
lovely,  to  dread  what  is  not  dreadful,  to  place 
the  point  of  honour  where  it  cannot  stand,  to 
laugh  at  those  things  which  are  not  ridiculous, 
to  make  light  of  that  which  is  very  serious,  and 
to  trifle  with  those  things  that  are  dangerous 
as   firebands,  arrows,  and  death." 

At  the  time  when  Mr.  Lee's  letter  was 
written  which  I  liave  quoted  above,  he  was 
become  the  leading  counsel  on  the  northern 
circuit,  and  was  considered  as  being  in  the 
high  road  to  the  first  preferments.  His  invi^ 
tation  to  his  friend,  to  visit  the  metropolis, 
was  constantly  repeated  by  him  every  year, 
accompanied  by  inducements  the  most  flatter- 
ing; but  he  never  could  draw  him  thither.  This 
might  in  part  be  owing  to  Mr.  Cappe's  situa- 
tion, being  left  with  a  young  family,  to  whom 
he  was  tenderly  attached,  and  whose  welfare 
claimed  from  him  unceasing  attention  ;  to  his 
having  engaged  in  the  education  of  a  few  pu- 
pils ;  and  to  his  ministerial  connexion  in  this 
city,  from  the  duties  of  which  he  never  ab- 
sented himself  without  great  reluctance.  A 
cause,  however,  no  less  powerful,  might  pro^ 
bably  be  found,  in  liis  own  peculiar  turn  of 
mind.  Reserved,  modest,  unambitious,  his 
first  solicitude  was  ftiithfuUy  to  discharge 
every  duty,  and  his  greatest  pleasure  to  me^ 
ditate  on  the  wovks  and  on  the  word  of  God, 


LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR.  liii 

Eminently  skilled  in  the  classick  writers  of 
Greece  and  Rome,  in  the  Hebrew,  and  in  the 
Hellenistick  Greek,  it  was  his  supreme  de- 
light to  study  the  scriptures  in  their  original 
languages  :  to  consider  the  modes,  customs, 
principles,  and  prejudices  which  prevailed 
when  the  gospel  was  first  preached :  the  ac- 
tual state,  both  of  the  Jewish  and  heathen 
world,  at  the  time  when  the  several  books  of 
the  NcAv  Testament  were  written  :  the  effects 
which  were  manifestly  produced  upon  the 
minds  of  all,  by  the  continuance  of  miraculous 
powers  among  the  first  believers,  until  the  de- 
struction of  the  Jewish  polity  ;  and  the  appeal 
which  was  constantly  made  by  these  writers 
to  this  fact :  to  contemplate  the  character,  the 
situation,  the  views,  and  the  phraseology,  both 
of  the  friends  and  enemies  of  the  gospel  :  to 
enter  into  the  sublime  ideas,  and  to  imbibe 
the  heavenly  temper  of  its  Author:  carefully 
to  compare  scripture  with  scripture  :  and  from 
these  various  sources  to  endeavour  ever}^  day 
to  gain  more  and  more  accurate  knowledge  of 
the  sacred  writings,  and  a  more  just  and  com- 
prehensive view  of  the  goverment  and  provi- 
dence of  God. 

The  only  excursion  in  which  for  many 
years  he  indulged  himself,  was  an  annual  visit 
to  his  friend  Mr.  Constable,  of  Wassand,  near 
Beverley,  with  whom  he  ever  continued  in 
habits  of  the  strictest  intimacy  and  friendship 
from  the  year  176^.  when  tliey  were  first  in- 


Jiv  LIFE   OF   THE    AUTHOR. 

troduced  to  the  acquaintance  of  each  other, 
by  their  common  friend,  Sir  Wads  worth 
Busk,  late  attorney-general  in  the  Isle  of 
Man. 

I  know  not  whether  it  was  immediately 
after  the  publication  of  the  fast  sermon  in 
4777,  that  a  correspondence  commenced  witli 
Mr.  Burke  ;  but  I  know  that  for  some  time 
Mr.  Cappe  did  correspond  with  him,  although 
I  have  not  been  able  to  find  any  of  his  let- 
ters. Mr.  Cappe  corresponded  very  fre- 
quently with  the  late  Dr.  Priestley,  from 
the  year  1761  to  1785  ;  likewise  regularly, 
for  some  years,  with  Mr.  Lindsey  ;  and  oc- 
casionally with  the  late  archdeacon  Black- 
burne,  3Ir.  Turner  of  Wakefield,  Dr.  Leech- 
man  of  Glasgow,  Dr.  Adam  Smith,  Dr.  Black, 
Dr.  Kippis,  the  late  Mr.  Walker  of  Manches- 
ter, Dr.  Toulmin,  Dr.  Disney,  3ir.  Wood  of 
Leeds,  Mr.  Turner  of  Newcastle,  and  many 
other  eminent  characters. 

I  find,  from  a  great  number  of  letters, 
now  in  my  possession,  that  during  the  time 
of  Dr.  Priestley's  residence  at  Warrington, 
at  Leeds,  and  with  the  marquis  of  Lans- 
downe,  he  submitted  several  of  his  publica- 
tions to  the  judgment  and  correction  of  Mr. 
Cappe  ;  but  after  that  period,  they  had  not 
much  communication.  In  a  letter  now  be- 
fore me,  dated  London,  March  23d,  1774,  Dr. 
p.  says — "  I  am  most  exceedingly  concerned 


LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR.  Iv 

to  hear  of  the  alarming  symptom  you  men- 
tion,* and  am  sorry  that  my  work  f  should 
be  in  your  hands  so  very  unseasonably,  though 
I  value  your  remarks  so  much  that  I  would 
rather  wait  half  a  year  tban  proceed  without 
them.  I  am  so  truly  sensible  of  your  supe- 
riour  judgment  on  these  things,  that  there 
is  hardly  a  hint  that  you  have  suggested, 
which  I  have  not  adopted  in  what  is  yet  print- 
ed of  the  Institutes." 

In  one  of  his  last  letters  from  Birming- 
ham, dated  March,  1784,  at  the  beginning  of 
Dr.  Priestley's  controversy  with  Bp.  Horsley, 
he  expresses  himself  in  the  following  man- 
ner :  "  Dr.  Horsley,  1  hear,  is  preparing  a 
reply,  and  will,  I  believe,  soon  have  it  in  the 
press — I  wish  you  were  a  little  nearer  to  me  ; 
I  want  just  such  a  regulator  and  guide  as  you 
would  be  to  me  in  this  business.  You  are  too 
far  off  to  be  consulted  on  emergencies." 

These  two  short  quotations,  among  many 
others  that  might  be  selected,  bear  ample 
testimony  to  the  humility  of  this  eminent  and 
extraordinary  person,  and  also  to  the  higli 
opinion  he  entertained  of  him  who  is  the  sub- 
ject of  these  memoirs. 

Although  Mr.  Cappe's  disposition  and  pur- 
suits  led  to   the  love   of  privacy  and  retire- 

*  See  page  xlv. 

t  Institutes  of  Natural  and  Revealed  Religion 


Ivi  LIFE   OF   THE   AUTHOR. 

ment,  there  was  iiotliiug  in  it  gloomy  or  unso-^ 
cial.  He  was,  on  tlie  contrary,  uniformly 
cheerful ;  and  his  talents  for  conversation, 
where  he  met  with  persons  whose  turn  of 
mind  was  at  all  congenial,  were  of  the  first 
order.  He  was  particularly  fond  of  young 
children ;  of  observing  their  little  actions, 
their  playfulness  and  simplicity,  and  would 
even  mix  in  their  infantile  sports,  the  source 
of  so  much  innocent  enjoyment.  I  have  often 
heard  him  remark,  that  if  arguments  were 
wanting  of  the  infinite  benevolence  of  God, 
they  miglit  be  found  in  the  variety  and  multi- 
plied enjoyments  of  that  early  period.  What 
pity,  would  he  sa^ ,  that  forms  so  fair,  should 
ever,  in  their  progress  through  life,  be  despoil- 
ed of  their  loveliness,  by  the  baneful  influence 
of  bad  example,  perverted  sentiment,  unhal- 
lowed passion,  and  vicious  pursuit ! 

He  published  two  more  fast  sermons  during 
the  American  war,  in  the  years  1780  and 
1781  ;  a  third  also  was  published  in  the 
year  1795,  which  he  had  composed  and  preach- 
ed in  the  year  1782,  and  wliich  is  especially 
remarkable  for  the  striking  coincidence  of 
our  national  situation  at  those  two  periods.  Of 
these  fast  sermons,  Mr.  Wood  lias  given  the 
following  just,  compreliensive,  and  beautiful 
outline,  in  memoirs  of  Mr.  Cappe,  originally 
prefixed  to  the  excellent  funeral  sermon  pub- 
lished by  himself  at  the  time,  and  now  re- 
published, by  his  permission,  in  this  volume. 


LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR.  hli 

"  Tlie  first  of  these  sermons  is  a  strong  and 
indi^gnant  invective  against  the  vices  of  the 
times,  in  which  the  preacher  delivers  his  sen- 
timents witli  g'reat  freedom  on  the  origin  of 
that  unhappy  contest,  the  spirit  manifested  in 
the  prosecution  of  it,  and  the  general  charac- 
ter of  its  abettors.  He  surveyed  from  a  dis- 
tance, in  his  retirement,  tlie  degeneracy  of  all 
ranks  of  men  ;  of  persons  in  publick  office  ; 
of  the  clergy  ;  of  the  army  ;  of  professing 
christians  as  well  as  of  unbelievers  ;  of  the 
serious  and  regular,  as  well  as  of  the  gay  and 
dissipated ;  and,  through  an  optical  anomaly, 
not  uncommon  to  the  mental  eye,  saw  them, 
perhaps,  in  somewhat  more  than  their  full 
magnitude  ;  at  least,  he  felt  them  with  a  keen- 
ness, and  spake  of  them  with  a  severity,  of 
which  he  Avould  not  have  been  capable,  had 
he  been  accustomed  to  mingle  with  them, 
and  take  a  nearer  view.  So  true  is  it,  that  we 
cannot  preserve  the  perfect  quickness  of  our 
moral  sensibility,  but  by  keeping  as  carefully 
aloof  from  a  familiar  and  close  survey,  as  from 
the  actual  practice  of  vice." 

"  In  the  second,  he  takes  a  milder  tone,  but 
at  the  same  time  displays  v.  ith  dignity  and 
force,  '  the  temptations  and  dangers  incident 
in  time  of  war,  to  the  host  that  goes  forth,  to 
the  power  that  sends  them  out,  and  to  the 
people  in  whose  behalf  they  are  sent.'  " 

H 


Iviii  LIFE   OF   THE    AUTHOU. 

"  In  the  third,  wearied  with  the  contem- 
plation of  vice  and  misery,  he  seeks  for  con- 
solation and  support,  in  the  pleasing  reflec-. 
tion,  that  as  the  Lord  God  omnipotent  reign- 
eth,  '  all  has  been,  is,  and  must  be  welL'  In 
this  discourse  we  discover  the  germ  of  the 
principles  which  are  more  fully  developed 
in  those  on  the  providence  and  government 
of  God."* 

"  In  the  fourth  he  sinks  again  into  de- 
spondence, and  laments  in  a  strain  of  tender 
compassion,  the  continued  insensibility,  luxu- 
ry, and  profaneness,  which  threw  a  dark 
shade  over  the  publick  manners,  and  threaten- 
ed the  infliction  of  still  severer  judgments." 

From  the  first  of  these  fast  sermons,  I 
have  given  a  pretty  copious  extract.  The  se- 
cond, preached  in  the  year  1782,  contains  an 
accurate  delineation  of  the  evils  incident  both 
to  governours  and  the  governed  by  a  state  of 
war,  whatever  may  be  its  final  issue,  whether 
prosperous  or  adverse.  It  strikingly  points 
out  the  unlawfulness  of  war  when  protracted 
longer  than  is  necessary  for  self-defence,  and 
ascertains  with  great  precision  the  conduct 
which  statesmen  ought  to  pursue,  whether  in 
respect  of  enemies  or  subjects.  From  the 
third,  I  shall  give  the  following  short  extract, 
both  as  a  specimen  of  the   extensive  views, 

*  First  published  in  the  year  1795,  and  a  second  edition  in  1811. 


LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR.  lix 

taken  in  the  fii'st  place,  of  the  universal  go- 
vernment and  providence  of  God  ;  and  se- 
condly, of  the  powerful  persuasives  to  sheath 
the  sword  which  cannot  but  present  them- 
selves to  the  real  and  contemplative  chris- 
tian. 

"  Jn  every  thing  to  g*ive  thanks,  to  rejoice 
evermore,  are  christian   precepts,   and  chris- 
tian principles  can  enable  us  to  keep  them. 
To  the  man  who  is    accustomed  to  look  at 
this  life   in  the  light   tliat   eternity  reflects 
upon  it,  and  to  regard  the  present  scene   as 
his  school  of  education  for  an  interminable 
being,  in  any  other  light  hoAv  diminutive  are 
all  human   things  !    An  empire  is  an  atom, 
and  an  age  a  moment.     In  the   fates  of  indi- 
viduals, with  respect  to  their  pleasures,  wealth, 
or  fame  ;  in  the  fates  of  nations,  with  respect 
to  their  interests,  prosperity,  and  glory,  there 
can  be  nothing  that  should  check   his  joy  in 
the  consideration  that,  in  whatever  names   of 
power  and  majesty  mortals   may  array  them- 
seh  es,  the  throne   of  empire   is   really  filled 
by  the  ever-living  God.      In  every  circum- 
stance, whether  of  publick  or  of  private  life, 
he  and  all  men  can  do  their  duty,  can  main- 
tain their  dignity,  can  keep  good  conscience 
and  good  hope  ;  pain,   sickness,   poverty  can- 
not hinder  this  ;  the  battle,  the  conflagration, 
the  tyrant  cannot  hinder  this  ;  and,  as  to  the 
rest,  the  intention  is  kind,  and  the  issue  good, 
and  a  few  short  days  will  bring  him  to  that 


\x  LIFE  OF  THE   AUTHOR. 

transporting  moment,  beyond  ^vhieh  pain,  in- 
justice, folly,  imperfection  cannot  follo^v  Lira, 
and  to  that  happy  land  whose  inhabitants  are 
all  righteous. 

'•  If  a  patriot-king',  the  benefit  of  Avhose 
vu'tues  extends  but  to  a  few  provinces,  and 
lasts  but  for  a  few  years,  is,  at  all  times,  a 
blessing  so  devoutly  to  be  wished  for,  what  a 
subject  of  triumph  and  rejoicing  is  it  that 
this  kingdom  and  that  kingdom,  this  world 
and  every  world  are  governed  by  a  Parent- 
God  !  Tliat  King  of  kings  can  never  forfeit 
his  right  to  your  allegiance,  can  never  alien- 
ate your  aftections  from  him,  can  never  vacate 
the  throne  on  which  he  sits,  or  ci-eate  in  you 
a  wish  that  he  should  vacate  it :  out  of  his 
dominions,  out  of  his  protection,  out  of  his 
blessing  you  cannot  be  ;  living,  dying,  dead, 
reviving,  you  are  his  subjects  and  he  is  your 
God.  Rejoice  then  in  the  Lord.  O  ye  right- 
eous, for  praise  is  comely  for  the  upright. 

" If    these    things    cannot    touch   you," 

(namely,  that  in  the  sight  of  God  all  men  are 
brethren)  ^'  look  before  you  to  tliat  quiet  gi'ave 
whither,  by  and  by,  with  you.  all  tlie  actors  on 
this  tumultuous  scene  will  be  ^>ithdrawn, 
where  the  monarch  will  have  found  his  no- 
thingness, and  his  armies  felt  their  impo- 
tence :  where  the  bubbles,  motes,  and  sha- 
dows that  now  excite  such  mighty  agitations. 
shall   make   no   impression    on   you  ;    where 


LIFE  OF   THE   AUTHOR.  Ixi 

your  hearts,  become  cold  to  every  earthly  in- 
terest, shall  at  leii.^th  be  still,  and  enemies, 
their  enmity  extinguished,  shall  sleep,  beside 
each  other,  in  security  and  peace. 

"  If  this  cannot  humanize  you,  look  to  that 
high  tribunal,  wliere  the  ambitious  ruler  shall 
be  ashamed,  at  last,  of  the  low  pursuits,  the 
petty  trifles,  and  the  glow-worm  glories  that 
seduced  him ;  where  the  sanguinary  hero 
shall  shudder  at  the  blood  he  once  shed  with- 
out remorse,  and  where  no  wan'iour  shall  jus- 
tify himself,  but  the  patriot  whose  sword  was 
the  weapon  of  defence,  and  the  protection  of 
the  injured  and  oppressed. 

"  tf  this  cannot  move  you  to  discard  3'our  pre- 
judices, to  curb  your  selfishness,  to  abash  your 
passions,  reciprocally  to  embrace  as  friends 
and  to  lore  as  brethren,  think  again,  and  yield 
yourselves  to  the  benignant  influences  of  the 
thought,  that  tbe  hour  cometh,  when,  the  im- 
perfections of  human  governments  being  abo- 
lished, and  the  interfering  interests  of  morta- 
lity annihilated,  in  the  city  of  tlie  living  God, 
all  the  sincere,  though  misguided,  children  of 
his  family,  out  of  every  nation,  tongue,  and 
kindred,  even  the  generations  that  have  fallen 
by  eacli  other's  swords,  looking  back  on  the 
events,  in  which,  perhaps,  they  saw  nothing 
wise,  and  felt  nothing  kind,  shall  be  heard 
throughout  all  that  wide-stretched  region,  as 
the  voice   of  a  great  multitude,   and  as  the 


Izii  LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR. 

voice  of  many  waters,  and  as  the  voice  of 
mighty  thunderings,  exulting  together  in  the 
government  of  God,  and  calling  on  each  other 
to  be  glad,  and  to  rejoice,  and  to  give  honom* 
to  him,  saving.  Alleluia,  for  the  Lord  God 
Omnipotent  is  King. — Amen.     Alleluia." 

These  fast  sermons  procured  him  the  re- 
spect of  many  eminent  persons  ;  among 
otliers,  his  friendship  was  sought  hy  Charles 
Polhill,  esq.  of  Chepstead  Place,  in  Kent ; 
and  a  passage  from  one  of  them  was  quoted 
by  3Ir.  Erskine,  on  the  famous  trial  of  Payne. 

In  the  summer  of  1782,  3Ir.  Cappe  was 
attacked  by  the  influenza.  He  had  several 
relapses,  and  in  the  November  following  was 
siezed  with  a  fever,  from  which  his  recovery 
was  not  expected,  and  in  consequence  of  which 
he  was  confined  to  his  room,  and  bed,  seve- 
ral weeks.  In  this  fever  he  was  attended 
with  the  orreatest  kindness  and  assiduitv  bv 
liis  two  medical  friends  in  this  city,  the  late 
Dr.  Swainston  and  the  late  Dr.  Hunter,  and 
by  his  eldest  son,  who  sat  up  with  him  nine 
nights  in  succession. 

It  was  his  constant  custom  to  mark  care- 
fully the  current  of  events  in  order  to  ex- 
tract from  them  such  important  reflections  as 
mig-ht  be  useful  to  himself  or  others  ;  and 
ha\  ing  now  risen  as  it  were  from  the  margin 
of  the  grave,  on  his  happy  return  to  his  mi- 
nisterial labours,  after  an  absence  of  eleven 


LIFE  OF  THE   AUTHOR.  ixiii 

weeks,  lie  gladly  seized  the  occasion,  in  a 
manner  peculiarly  his  own,  of  showing  forth 
the  goodness  of  God,  when  he  wounds  as  well 
as  when  lie  heals.  These  sermons  form  the 
concluding  part  of  this  volume. 

Mr.  Cappe  had  long  been  solicited  to  make 
a  selection  of  psalms,  corrected  by  himself  for 
publick  worship.  In  the  year  17^5,  he  com- 
plied with  this  request,  and  the  selection  was 
published  in  1786.  It  was  adopted  by  his 
own  congregation  in  this  city,  by  that  of  ]\Ir. 
Wood  of  Leeds,  Mr.  Turner  of  Newcastle, 
and  some  others  ;  but  as  it  was  not  advertised 
in  any  of  the  publick  papers,  it  could  not  be 
noticed  by  the  periodical  prints,  and  conse- 
quently was^  never  much  known.  The  prin- 
ciples on  which  this  selection  of  psalms  were 
made,  are  stated  in  the  preface  ;  of  Avhicli  the 
leading  ones  are,  accuracy  of  sentiment,  and 
care  to  avoid  all  such  peculiarities  of  opinion 
as  might  prevent  any  conscientious  christian 
from  joining  in  the  use  of  them.*      To  these 

*  I  shall  give  a  specimen  of  this  in  the  32d  psalm  of  the  first 
hook,  from  the  version  of  Dr.  Watts,  of  the  17th  psalm  of  David; 
in  which,  among  lesser  alterations,  the  last  stanza  is  so  constructed, 
that  it  may  be  used  by  all  Christians,  whatever  may  be  their  pecu- 
liar opinions  respecting  the  period  when  a  future  life  sha!l  com- 
mence, whether  immediately  on  the  termination  of  the  present 
scene,  or  not  until  a  general  judgment. 

PSALM    XXXII. 

Christian  Resignation  and  Hope. 

Lord  I  am  thine,  and  thou  wilt  prove. 
My  faith,  my  patience,  and  my  love  : 


Ixi?  LIFE  OK  THE   AUTHOR. 

psalms  is  prefixed  an  explication  of  some 
scriptural  terms,  and  phrases  ^vhich  occur  in 
them. 

In  the  February  of  1788,  the  writer  of  these 
memoirs  became  a  member  of  Mr.  Cappe's 
family :  As  he  had  not  at  this  time  any  pu- 
pils, and  from  that  and  other  causes,  having 
more  leisure  than  formerly,  he  was  prevailed 
upon,  after  some  time,  by  his  newly-acquired 
amanuensis,  to  dictate  now  and  then  for  half 
an  hour,  when  fatigued  with  more  laborious 
occupation,  from  his  corrected  short-hand, 
with  a  \'iew  to  publication.  His  general  state 
of  health  had  suffered  extremely  from  too 
great  mental  exertion,  although  he  had  always 
taken  horse-exercise    whenever   the   weather 

What  e'er  the  trial,  I'll  complain 
Of  nought  thy  wisdona  shall  ordain. 

What  sinners  value  I  resign  ; 
Lord,  'tis  enough  that  thou  art  mine : 
I  shall  behold  thee  face  to  face. 
And  stand  complete  iu  righteousness. 

This  life's  a  dream,  a  transient  show  ; 
The  eternal  world  to  which  I  go, 
Hath  joys  substantial  and  sincere, 
When  shall  I  wake  and  find  me  there  ? 

0  glorious  hour  !  O  blest  abode  ! 

1  shall  be  near,  and  like  my  God  ! 
And  flesh  and  sin  no  more  controul 
The  sacred  pleasures  of  the  soul. 

The  change  will  come  :  this  active  mind 
To  earth's  dark  scenes  no  more  confin'd, 
Shall  burst  the  chains  with  glad  surprise, 
And  in  the  Saviour's  image  rise 


LIFE  OF  THE   AUTHOR.  Jxy 

Would  permit ;  bui  even  in  these  rides  liis 
mind  was  still  activelj  employed ;  in  them, 
many  of  his  sermons  were,  in  great  measure, 
composed.  The  study  of  the  scriptures,  as 
already  mentioned,  was  ever  his  supreme  de- 
light. For  more  than  forty  years  he  never 
went  any  wliere  unaccompanied  by  a  pocket 
Greek  Testament,  in  which  it  was  his  custom 
to  mark  down  hints,  as  they  occurred  to  him, 
of  whatever  might  strike  his  mind,  as  merit- 
ing farther  consideration,  upon  pieces  of  card, 
or  small  slips  of  paper,  or  upon  a  slate  table  ; 
these  hints  were  from  time  to  time  examined, 
and  at  leno'th  formed  into  a  rousjli  draft.  He 
then  dismissed  that  particular  subject  for 
some  time  from  his  mind,  in  order  that  he 
might  apply  to  it  anew  with  more  vigour  and 
effect ;  and  it  was  not  till  after  he  had  fully 
weighed  every,  the  most  minute  circum- 
stance, in  all  its  bearings  and  connexions, 
that  the  dissertation  was  transcribed  a  third 
time  correctly  in  short-hand.  Considering 
the  gospel  as  of  the  highest  importance  to 
the  happiness  of  man,  both  here  and  here- 
after, it  is  literally  true,  that  he  experienced 
more  delight  of  heart  in  the  elucidation  of  an 
obscure  passage,  in  removing  a  difficulty,  or 
reconciling  an  apparent  contradiction,  than 
he  would  have  done,  if  put  in  possession  of 
every  thing  which  the  children  of  this  world 
consider  as  most  desirable.  '*  Rejoice  with 
me,"  he  would  often  say,  T\hen  coming  from 
his  study  with  brightened  looks,  and  a  more 

I 


Jxvi  LIFE  OF  THE   AUTHOU. 

highly  animated  countenance,  "  for  I  think  1 
have  discovered  the  true  meaning  of  a  pas- 
sage, which  1  never  understood  before  !" 

Much,  however,  as  he  delighted  in  critical 
researcli,  subjects  of  this  sort  were  seldom 
the  topicks  of  his  publick  teaching.  Holiness 
of  heart,  and  life,  he  considered  as  of  first  im- 
portance ;  and  to  the  attainment  and  cultiva- 
tion of  these,  his  discourses  in  the  pulpit,  of 
which  the  few  that  are  given  in  this  volume 
are  a  fair  specimen,  were  principallv  direct- 
ed. 

In  the  February  of  1791,  Mr.  Cappe's 
resignation  and  fortitude  was  put  to  a  most 
severe  trial,  by  the  death  of  his  eldest  son, 
Dr.  Joseph  Cappe  ;  an  instance  of  whose  filial 
piety  has  been  already  mentioned.  He  had 
studied  medicine  in  London  and  Edinburgh, 
had  taken  his  degree  at  Leyden,  and  had  fix- 
ed his  residence  in  this  city  a  few  months 
before  his  death.  He  was  a  young  man  of 
great  virtue,  peculiarly  eminent  for  accuracy 
and  distinctness  of  perception,  soimdness  of 
judgment,  and  solidity  of  mind.  He  possessed 
extensive  knowledge,  adoi-ned  by  a  lively  ima- 
gination ;  and  liad  been  the  confidential  com- 
panion and  friend  of  his  honoured  father, 
under  the  pressure  of  many  a  domestick  sor- 
row, in  which  his  bi'others  and  sisters  were 
too  young,  at  the  time,  to  participate. 


LIFE  of  the   author.  IxTii 

It  fell  to  the  lot  of  the  writer  of  these  me- 
moirs, to  acquaint  Mr.  Cappe  with  this  most 
afflictive  event.  It  was  in  the  morning,  be- 
fore he  had  risen  : — '•  Leave  me  a  moment," 
he  said,  "  if  you  please  ;"  and  in  less  than 
half  an  hour,  he  dressed  himself,  came  down 
stairs,  and  calling  the  family  as  usual  to 
morning  prayer,  he  poured  out  liis  soul  in  the 
presence  of  his  Maker,  in  a  strain  of  humble 
confidence,  and  of  pious  resignation,  never  to 
be  forgotten.  He  endured  on  this  occasion 
every  thing  that  the  acutest  sensibility,  and 
the  most  ardent  affection  for  the  son  he  had 
lost,  could  inflict ;  yet  his  fortitude  never  for- 
sook liim  :  it  supported  him  even  to  the  grave 
of  liis  beloved  son,  where  he  himself  perform- 
ed the  funeral  service  three  days  after,  late  in 
the  evening,  accompanied  only  by  the  neces- 
sary attendants.  This  painful  effort  the  Avriter 
of  these  memoirs  would  gladly  have  pi*e vent- 
ed ;  '•  I  received  him  from  God,"  was  his 
answer,  "  and  to  liim  I  must  resign  him."  So 
composed  was  his  mind  after  this  trying  ser- 
vice, and  so  attentive  was  he,  even  in  circum- 
stances like  these,  to  the  feelings  of  others, 
that  apprehending  her  mother,  then  much  in 
years,  might  suffer  from  her  anxiety  on  his 
account,  he  sent  his  clerk  to  inform  her  ira- 
mediatelv  after  the  wliole  was  ovei*,  that  he 
was  very  well. 

It  has  been  already  mentioned,  that  it  Avas 
the  habit  of  Mr.  Cappe.  to  mark  carefully  the 


Ixviii  LIFE   OF   THE    AUTHOR. 

current  of  events,  and  to  extract  from  them 
such  reflections,  as  might  be  useful  to  himself 
or  others. 

I  shall  make  a  Tew  extracts  from  two  dis- 
courses, preached  by  him,  en  liearing  of  tjhe 
earlj  deatii  of  a  young  gentleman  of  consider- 
able hopes  and  expectations,  who  had  been 
his  pupil,  and  was  well  known  to  many  in  liis 
congregation,  on  the  following  text: — "  AVhat 
is  your  life  ?  It  is  even  as  a  vapour,  it  appear- 
eth  for  a  little  time,  and  then  vanisheth  away." 
HoAv  far  the  animation  of  the  preach.er  could 
give  interest  to  a  subject,  which  however  im- 
portant, is  so  familiar  to  us,  (for  we  all  know 
tbat  life  is  often  short,  and  tbat  it  is  always 
uncertain,)  the  reader  will  be  able  in  some 
measure,  from  these  extracts,  to  appreciate. 

After  an  appropriate  introduction,  and  an 
animated  address  to  the  testimony  of  the 
aged,  even  in  respect  of  their  experience  of 
the  shortness  of  life,  he  thus  proceeds  :  "Ask 
them  to  look  back  upon  the  scenes  through 
which  they  have  passed,  upon  the  years  which 
they  have  spent ;  entreat  them  to  tell  you  in 
what  light  they  see  them  ;  attend  unto  their 
answer,  for  with  the  aged  there  is  wisdom. 
What  is  it  tliey  repl}'  ?  They  confii*m  the 
oracle  of  God  :  the  weaver's  shuttle,  they  say, 
is  not  more  swift ;  the  shooting  star  is  not 
more  momentary,  evanescent,  and  unreal.",... 
"  Some  of  you  may  consult  your  children,  in- 


LIFE  OF  THE   AUTHOR.  Ixix 

Stead  of  advising  with  jour  fathers  ;  and  all  of 
yon,  I  believe,  may  ask  your  brethren,  if  the 
time  be  not  very  short.     The  registers  of  the 
dead    are   not   unfaithful ;    they   cannot   err  ; 
they  are  not  interested  ;  consult  the  registers 
of  the  dead.     Look  upon  the  tombs,  are  their 
inhabitants   all  old  ?  No,  not  all ;  many  ?  No, 
not  many ;  the  aged  are  a  thinly   scattered 
number.     Infants  there   are,  who  have  been 
born  to  weep  and  die  ;  babes   there  are,  who 
in  all  their  sportive  innocence,  have  gone  down 
into  the  grave  ;  youths  there  are,  who  in  their 
gayest  hours,  and  amidst  the  most  pleasurable 
scenes,   have   been  recalled  to   lie   down    in 
darkness,  and  the  dust.     Numbers  too  there 
are,  who  in  the  pride  of  manhood,  the   matu- 
rity of  life,  in  the  full  career  of  business  and 
of  hope,  have  been   eased  of  all  their  anxie- 
ties,  and  defeated  of  all    their  expectations, 
and   fast   bound   in  the    fetters    of  death, — 
The  young   lie   thick    as    dew-drops   on   the 
ground  ;  here    and  there  only  do   we    find  a 
monument  erected  unto  years  and  wisdom  ; 
we  wonder  when  we  find  it,  and  yet  tliis  our 
wonder  does  not  cure  us  of  our  security  and 
confidence."...."  Perhaps,  even  now,  tlie  sc3i;he 
of  time  is   lifted  up  to   cut  down  those   who 
little  think   of  it,  who   are   expecting  the  de- 
parture of  their  friends,  or  preparing  to  con- 
vey their  fathers  to  the  tomb." "To-mor- 
row, that  idol  deity  in  which  the  world   have 
agreed  to  place    their  trust ;  to-morrow,  that 
hair-spun   thread,   on   which  they  hang  the 


Ixx  LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR. 

weighty  concerments  of  eternity,  what  is  to- 
morrow ?  No  part  of  our  possessions,  no  part 
of  our  inheritance ;  it  is  a  part  in  the  great 
chain  of  duration,  but  perhaps  no  part  of  our 
present  being.  Clear  and  bright,  and  steady 
as  it  shines  to-day,  some  sudden  bhist  may 
blow  out  tlie  lamp  of  life ;  and  to-morrow 
may  have  conveyed  us  into  other  company, 
and  settled  us  in  other  scenes.  '  Boast  not,* 
my  friends,  '  of  to-morrow,'  till  you  have  un- 
rolled the  book  of  fate,  and  leai'nt  what  to- 
day shall  bring  forth." "  Last  night,  it  is 

probable,  many  a  gay  youth  threw  himself 
upon  the  bed,  wltcnce  he  shall  arise  no  more  ; 
and  many  a  busy  liead  reposed  itself  on  that 
pillow,  where  it  shall  sleep  on  now,  and  take 
its  rest.  How  sad  and  serious  are  many  now, 
who  but  last  night  were  giddy,  thoughtless, 
presumptuous,  and  vain  ;  liow  terrible  has  this 
to-morrow  proved  to  many,  who  but  yester- 
day said  unto  themselves  that  it  was  yet  soon 
enough  to  repent  and  be  converted  ?  '  Thou 
fool,  this  night  shall  thy  soul  be  required  of 
thee,'  was  a  sliort,  a  severe,  and  yet  a  gracious 

warning." "  In   every   breeze    that    blows, 

there  is  a  flight  of  human  fates  ;  in  every 
breath  >ve  breathe,  Ave  may  drink  in  the  dead- 
ly poison  ;  every  hour  we  stand  in  jeopardy, 
then  '  verily  eyery  man  at  his  best  estate,  is 
altogether  vanity.'  In  every  walk  we  take, 
death  treads  upon  our  steps  ;  he  watches  us 
in  our  retirements,  he  follows  us  in  our  busi- 
ness, he    mingles  with  the  angels  that  stand 


LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR.  Ixxi 

round  our  beds  ;  in  that  very  moment,  when 
our  hearts  are  most  attached  to  the  world ; 
in  tliat  very  moment  when  we  arc  least  ap- 
prehensive of  our  fate,  then  the  tyrant  springs 
upon  his  prey,  rejoicing  to  add  unto  his  na- 
tive horrours,  the  accessory  terrours  of  sur- 
prise. '  In  the  midst  of  life,  we  are  in  death  ;' 
in  the  bloom  of  life,  we  are  in  danger  of  some 
fatal  blight ;  in  the  highest  health,  Ave  may 
be  nearest  to  some  mortal  malady.  What 
then  is  your  life  ?  Is  it  not  a  fleeting  cloud, 
an  evaporating  smoke,  an  exploding  meteor, 
a  painted  bubble  ?  Break  the  bubble  must ; 
in  its  greatest  beauty  it  will  break,  and  it  may 
break  ere  night." 

Of  the  uses  to  be  made  of  these  reflections 
on  the  shortness  antl  uncertainty  of  life,   ho 

thus  speaks: ''If  life  be   so   short,   and  so 

uncertain,  then  ought  we  not  to  be  prodigal  of 
time  ?....When  you  can  arrest  the  passing  mo- 
ments, then  you  may  abuse  them  ;  wlien  you 
can  say  that  you  have  finished  the  work  of 
life,  then  you  may  amuse  yourselves.  Of  our 
honour  we  are  jealous,  of  our  wealth  we  are 
parsimonious,  of  our  labour  we  are  frugal, 
but  our  time  we  waste  upon  the  follies,  we 
waste  it  on  the  pleasures,  we  waste  it  on  the 
cares  of  this  life  ;  we  give  it  unto  cxery  one 
that  asks  it  of  us  ;  nor  are  we  sensible  of  our 
extravagance,  perliaps,  till  the  world  cannot 
purchase  us  another  hour.  Time  was  given 
us,  that  we  might  buy  with  it  the  blessings  of 


Ixxii  LIFE  OF  THE   AUTHOR. 

eternity  ;  as  the  revenue  comes  in,  we  expend 
it  on  the  vanities  of  this  world ;  and  when  we 
should  enter  on  that  glorious  inheritance,  we 
find  ourselves  poor,  and  miserable,  and  blind, 
and  naked."* 

During  the  summer  of  the  year  1790,  Mr. 
Cappe  had  had  many  threatnings  of  a  para- 
lytick  attack,  but  the  awful  blow  was  suspend- 
ed until  the  2d  of  3Iay,  1791;  a  morning 
ever  to  be  remembered  by  the  writer  of  these 
memoirs,  when  this  friend  of  her  heart,  to 
whose  great  and  fine  qualities  she  was  perhaps 
too  ardently  attached,  was  suddenly  seized 
with  a  dreadful  stroke  of  the  palsy !  He  bad 
taken  a  ride  to  a  neiglibouring  village  to  bap- 
tize a  child,  and  the  morning  being  fine,  had 
afterwards  prolonged  his  ride,  when  suddenly, 
in  a  sandy  lane,  finding  his  head  extremely 
uncomfortable,  he    thrcAv    himself  from   his 

■*  I  was  much  struck  and  affected  by  reading  a  volume  of  Poeins 
j)ublished  by  Dr.  Aikin  in  1!!03,  written  by  the  late  Henry  AJoore.  a 
fellow  student  of  Mr.  Cappe's  at  Xorthamptou.  The  strain  of  seRti- 
ment  that  generally  runs  through  thtni  is  so  much  in  the  manner  of 
Mr.  Cappe,  that  I  could  have  supposed  them  to  have  been  written  by 
himself.  How  strongly,  for  instance,  did  the  following  passage  in  the 
Ode  to  Contentment  bring  his  image  to  my  mind  ! 

Divine  Contentment !  still  be  nigh 

To  cheer  me  with  thy  placid  eye. 
While  thro'  this  fleeting  Life's  short  various  day 
A  humble  Pilgrim  here  I  plod  my  way, 
May  no  ambitious  dreams  delude  my  mind, 
Impatience  lience  be  far — and  far  be  Pride  ; 
Whate'er  my  lot,  on  Heav'n's  kind  care  reclin'd. 
Be  Piety  my  comfort — Faith  my  guide. 


LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR.  Ixxiii 

horse,  and  Avas  found  almost  immediately  after, 
by  a  neighbouring*  gentleman,  the  faithful 
animal  standing  by  him,  as  if  conscious  of 
his  master's  situation.  The  circumstance  of 
the  deep  sand  in  the  lane,  preserved  him 
from  being  injured  by  the  fall ;  but  his  life, 
notwithstanding,  was  despaired  of  for  many 
weeks.  At  lengtli,  it  pleased  the  Almighty 
in  some  measure  to  restore  him  ;  but  although 
lie  continued  afterwards  to  read  and  to  com- 
pose occasionally,  yet  he  was  never  able  again 
to  resume  his  ministerial  labours. 

In  the  summer  of  179S,  he  Avas  so  far  re- 
covered, as  to  make  a  visit,  accompanied  by 
myself,  to  his  old  friend  Mr.  Lee,  (at  Stain- 
drop,  in  the  county  of  Durham,)  tlien  in  a 
very  declining  state  of  health,  but  still  in  full 
possession  of  his  extraordinary  conversation- 
al talents.  We  were  met  there  by  Mr.  Con- 
stable of  Wassand  ;  and,  by  a  singular  coin- 
cidence of  circumstances,  by  Sir  Wads  worth 
Buske  also,  at  that  time  resident  in  the  Isle  of 
Man,  Sir  W.  Buske  did  not  know  that  his 
two  other  friends  were  at  Staindrop  ;  but  be- 
ing at  Harrogate,  and  wishing  to  visit  IMr.  Lee, 
his  arrival  was  unexpectedly  announced  one 
morning  at  breakfast,  just  after  it  had  been 
remarked  by  Mi*s.  Lee,  that  the  three  old 
friends  wanted  only  the  addition  of  Sir  Wads- 
worth  Buske  ;  to  complete  their  happiness  ! 


Ixxiv  LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR. 

On  tlie  7tli  of  April,  in  the  year  1793,  Mr. 
Cappe  had  a  second  paralytick  seizure,  which, 
although  it  affected  him  differently,  was  not 
less  severe  than  the  first,  and  hy  which  his 
life  was  again  for  many  weeks  in  the  most 
imminent  danger ;  and  from  this  he  never  so 
far  recovered  as  to  be  able  to  walk  without 
considerable  assistance,  or  to  speak  without 
difficulty  and  pain.  In  circumstances  like 
these,  it  might  seem  to  many,  that  his  life 
was  no  longer  desirable  ;  but  these  saw  only 
how  much  was  lost ;  they  did  not  knoAv  in  how 
many  ways  he  could  still  administer  to  the 
comfort  and  happiness  of  others  ;  and  how 
ample  were  the  stores  of  enjoyment  and  of 
hope,  that  remained  to  himself.  He  could 
still  instruct,  by  exemplifying,  in  practice,  the 
efficacy  of  those  divine  precepts  of  resigna- 
tion and  fortitude,  which,  in  theory,  he  had  so 
often  and  so  ably  taught ;  and  those  who  lov- 
ed him  had  still  the  consolation  of  endeavoui'- 
ing  to  lighten  his  burdens,  and  of  anticipat- 
ing his  wishes.  Tbe  powers  of  recollection 
were  still  spared  him,  and  they  brought  with 
them  the  constant  testimon}^  of  a  life  well 
spent.  Although  he  could  no  longer  labori- 
ously explore,  and  endeavour  to  bring  to  light 
the  treasures  of  knoAvledge  that  lie  hidden 
in  the  sacred  volume,  its  precepts,  its  conso- 
lations, and  its  hopes,  were  engraven  on  liis 
heart,  and  of  these,  disease  did  not  deprive 
him.  It  was  even  still  permitted  him  to  la- 
bour in  the  vineyard  of  his  honoured  blaster, 


LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR.  Ixxv 

by  dictating  from  liis  short-hand  papers  to  an 
amanuensis,  who  coukl  have  no  pleasm*e  in 
this  world  equal  to  the   effort  of  contributing 
to  his   happiness,  and  of  being  instrumental 
to  the  preservation  of  papers  which  she  deem- 
ed   so    inestimable.     Some    hours    in  almost 
every  day,  for  nearly  nine  years,  were  dedicat- 
ed to  this  employment,  to  which  all   others 
were  made  to  give  way ;  and  so  ample  were 
the  stores  from  which  these  treasures  were 
drawn,  that  although  many  volumes  have  been 
transcribed,  together  with   an  harmony  and 
notes   on   the  whole  New  Testament,  many 
more  remain  locked  up  in  an  unintelligible 
short-hand.     Among  these  the  editor  regrets 
principally,  his  notes  upon  Dr.  Hartley's  Ob- 
servations on  Man  ;  a  work  which  Mr.  Cappe 
had  closely  studied,  and  estimated  very  high- 
ly, and  of  which  it  was  his  intention  to  have 
published  a  new  edition.     These  notes,  which 
are    extremely  numerous,  unfortunately  had 
not  advanced  beyond  a  short-hand  rough  draft, 
wliich  was  to  have  been  again  revised,  and 
many  of  them  are  written  with  a  pencil,  which 
made  the  reading  of  them  attended  with  dif- 
ficulty ;  so  that  he  w  as  never  equal  to  the  la- 
bour of  doing  it,  and  of  correcting,  arranging, 
and  re-transcribing. 

It  is  well  known,  during  the  period  of  which 
we  are  speaking,  that  infidelity  was  not  only 
professed  openly  in  a  neighbouring  nation,  but 
that  in  this  country  also,  if  it  did  not  avow  it- 


Ixxri  LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR. 

self  ill  terms  quite  so  direct,  Christianity  was 
treated  by  many  writers  of  sufficient  celebri- 
ty, Avith  studied  neglect.*  Painfully  impress- 
ed by  these  circumstances,  I  adverted  to  the 
apprehensions  they  excited,  as  I  was  tran- 
scribing* the  reasons  assigned  by  Mr.  Cappe, 
to  believe  even  from  present  appearances,  that 
Christianity  would  finally  prevail ;  and  asked 
liim  if  it  might  not  be  Avell  to  intermingle 
some  reflections  on  events  then  taking  place  ?t 
"  By  no  means,"  he  replied,  '•  depend  upon  it, 
these  are  only  passing  clouds,  not  Avorth  the 

*This  fashionable  mode  of  treating  Christianily  by  a  certain  class 
of  writers,  or  rather  of  passing  it  over  in  profound  silence,  is  thus 
well  adverted  to,  by  an  able  feniale  writer  of  the  present  day. — 
"  Avowed  attacks  npon  revelation  are  more  easily  resisted,  because 
the  malignity  is  advertised.  But  who  suspects  the  desirnction  which 
lurks  under  the  harmless  or  instructive  names,  of  General  History, 
JSatiiral  History,  Travels,  T'oyagcs,  Lives,  Encyclopedias,  Criticism, 
and  Romances  ■'  Who  will  deny  that  many  of  these  works  contain 
much  admirable  matter;  brilliant  passages,  important  facts,  just  de- 
scriptions, faithtul  pictures  of  nature,  and  valuable  illustrations  of 
science  ?  But  while  '  the  dead  fly  lies  at  the  bottom,'  the  whole  will 
exhale  a  corrupt  and  pestilential  stench."  Airs.  Hannah  Alore's 
Strictures  on  the  iModern  System  of  Female  Education,  Vol.  I,  pages 
3),  32. 

f  One  of  the  passages  alluded  to,  is  as  follows.  Having  enumerat- 
ed some  of  the  difficulties  which  the  gospel  had  to  encounter  on  its 
first  promulgation,  and  of  the  probabilities  at  that  time  against  its 
success,  Mr.  Cappe  observes.  "  In  the  circumstances  of  the  gospel 
now,  there  are  no  such  reasons  to  apprehend  its  extinction,  or  con- 
finement." (viz.  to  an  obscure  province,  like  Judea.)  "The  increas- 
ing facility  and  extent  of  iiuman  intercourse,  the  growing  comprehen- 
sion of  the  human  understanding;  tlie  improved  liberality  of  In. Uian 
sentiments  ;  the  wide  distribution  of  the  gospel  records  ;  the  acknow- 
ledged excellence  of  the  gospel  morality;  the  advancing  separation 
of  the  corruptions  that  had  been  intermingled  with  it  from  the  truth 
as  V  is  in  Jesus  ;  the  debates  that  have  arisen  concerning  its  eviden- 
ces and  its  doctrines,  which  have  been  the  means  of  placing  them 
in  the  clearest  light,  and  fixing  them  upon  their  true  foundation  ;  all 
these  things  conspire  to  suggest  and  to  support  the  assured  hope,  that 
the  gates  of  death  never  shall  prevail  against  the  word  of  Jesus." 
Dissertations,  Vol,  I,  pages  126,  127. 


LIFE  OF  THE   AUTHOR.  Ixxvii 

notice."  And  indeed  it  is  remarkable,  that 
the  unanimity  of  his  mind  was  never  for  a 
moment  disturbed  by  them,  for  he  well  knew 
on  whom  he  had  believed :  and  may  I  not 
here  be  allo^ved  to  remark,  that  already,  even 
in  the  short  interval  of  seven  years,  these 
"passing  clouds"  are  beginning  to  vanish 
away?  Ihe  substitution  of  philosophy,  falsely 
so  called,  (for  genuine  philosophy  is  her  stead- 
fast friend)  in  place  of  Christianity,  has  not 
produced  all  the  glorious  effects  that  were 
predicted  of  its  advent. — The  inhabitants  of 
a  neighbouring  nation  are  not  become  of  all 
others,  the  most  enlightened,  the  most  free, 
or  the  most  happy  ;*  and  if  it  has  failed  in 
this  world,  Avhere  its  laurels  avowedly  were 
to  be  reaped,  it  will  not  be  affirmed  that  it 
has  any  indemnification  to  offer  in  the  con- 
templation of  another,  in  which  it  professes 
not  to  believe,  and  for  which  it  is  altogether 
unprepared. 

Among  the  pleasiu'es  of  which  Mr.  Cappe 
was  never  wholly  deprived,  those  must  be 
reckoned  which  resulted  irom  the  contem- 
plation of  the  Avorks,  as  well  as  of  the  word  of 
God.     Although  miable  to  walk,   or  to  ride 

*  If  this  were  true  in  the  year  1805,  what  shall  we  say  of  the  state 
of  that  miserable  country  at  the  present  day  UilO?  Let  the  foreign 
armies  that  live  upon  her  plains; — the"  total  loss  of  all  serious 
thought  and  moral  principle  in  the  hulk  of  her  people;— the  wretch- 
ed debasing  superstition  of  h^r  rulers  and  pharisaical  priesthood; — 
together  with  the  cruel  swoid  of  persecution  drawn  in  its  defence, 
bearing  their  united  testimony  to  her  complete  degradation,  give 
the  answer. — Editor. 


Iixviii  LIFE  OF  THE   AUTHOR. 

on  horseback,  he  was  drawn  in  a  little  car- 
riage, when  the  weather  would  permit,  in  the 
open  air,  where  he  could  enjoy  the  pleasures 
of  spring,  and  watch  the  progress  of  vegeta- 
tion. Still  he  could  atlraire  the  glories  of 
a  setting  sun,  in  the  contemplation  of  which 
he  had  ever  had  the  greatest  pleasure  ;  enjoy 
the  fragrance  of  the  evening  breeze  ;  gaze 
with  calm  delight  on  the  vaulted  canopy  of 
heaven,  studded  with  innumerable  worlds  ; 
and  join  with  Milton  in  his  elevated  hymn  of 
praise — 

*'  These  are  thy  wond'rous  works, 
Parent  of  good  :  thus  wond'rous  fair, 
Thyself  how  woad'rous  then  !" 

To  say  that  he  never  discovered  any  fret- 
fulness  ;  that  he  never  once  repined  at  the 
dispensations  of  Providence ;  that  he  never 
once  regretted  the  powers  he  had  lost ;  (al- 
though he  was  fully  sensible  of  their  loss,  "  I 
once  knew  a  little,"  he  was  accustomed  to 
say  !)  would  be  to  fall  very  short  of  a  true 
representation  of  his  actual  state  of  mind, 
which  was  always  composed,  serene,  and 
cheerful,  and  on  which  was  constantly  impress- 
ed a  sense  of  gratitude,  of  thankfulness,  and 
of  praise. 

In  him  surely  we  see  an  example  supply- 
ing the  most  powerful  incentive,  even  were 
this  world  only  concerned,  to  the  diligent  cul- 
tivation, and  faithful  improvement  of  our  seve- 


LIFE  OF  THE   AUTHOR.  Ixxix 

ral  talents,  whatever  tbey  may  be.  Had  the 
early  days  of  the  character  under  contempla- 
tion been  consumed,  we  will  not  say  in  vice, 
but  in  the  pursuit  of  those  objects  which  the 
men  of  this  world  seek  after,  of  pleasure,  of 
ambition,  or  of  gain,  would  such  have  been 
his  resources  in  the  day  of  trial  ?  Would  such 
have  been  the  hope,  that,  amidst  the  storm 
and  tempest,  can  repose,  witli  full  security, 
on  the  "  Rock  of  Ages  ?"  So  true  it  is,  that 
"  to  the  upright  there  arise  th  light  in  the 
darkness :"  So  true  it  is,  generally  speak- 
ing, even  in  respect  of  what  relates  to  the 
present  scene,  that  "  whatsoever  a  man  sow- 
eth,  that  shall  he  also  reap  !" 

Among  his  many  remaining  comforts,  Mr. 
Cappe  always  reckoned  in  the  foremost  rank, 
the  having  met  with  a  colleague,*  in  whom 
he  early  discovered  an  ardent  love  of  truth, 
especially  of  religious  truth  ;  talents  equal  to 
its  development,  and  dispositions  the  most 
amiable.  He  felt  for  him  a  trul}^  paternal  af- 
fection ;  often  did  he  please  himself  with  anti- 
cipating what  he  believed  would  be  his  future 
eminence  :  and  he  always  looked  forward  to 
him  as  his  successor  in  his  ministerial  office 
in  this  city,  with  singular  complacency  and 
satisfaction. 

In  the  night  of  the  16th  of  September,  1799, 
Mr.  Cappe  had    a   third   paral^i;ick   attack  : 

*  The  ReT.  Charles  Wellbeloved. 


Ixxx  LIFE   OF   THE    AUTHOR. 

which,  although  it  did  not,  like  the  two  fore- 
going, seem  to  threaten  immediate  dissolution, 
yet  so  greatly  impaired  his  remaining  hodily 
powers,  so  affected  his  articulation,  and  weak- 
ened his  Avliole  frame,  that  we  were  ohliged, 
in  a  great  measure,  ever  after  to  lay  aside  the 
occupation  of  transcribing,  which  hud  hither- 
to been  the  source  of  so  much  pleasure  and 
consolation.  Still,  however,  his  resignation, 
his  fortitude,  and  his  cheerfulness  remained. 
That  what  had  happened  to  him  was  the  will 
of  his  heavenly  Father,  was  ground  sufficient 
not  of  acquiescence  merely,  but  of  firm  per- 
suasion, that  it  was  the  best  that  could  have 
been,  both  for  himself  and  others.  Even  his 
countenance  lost  nothing  of  its  wonted  com- 
posure and  benignity  :  he  was  prevailed  upon, 
after  this,  to  have  his  picture  taken,  which 
fortunately  bears  a  strong  likeness  :  and  now 
that  the  original  is  no  longer  present,  it  is 
soothing  to  the  sorrowing  mind,  to  be  able,  by 
this  means,  to  call  to  its  remembrance  in  a 
more  vivid  foi-m,  the  piety,  resignation,  and 
benevolence  that  was  ever  depicted  in  the 
living  prototype. 

Mr.  Scott  of  AniAvell  was  one  of  his  fa- 
vourite poets,  and  the  "  Klegy  on  the  Ap- 
proach of  Winter,"  his  favourite  piece.  With 
what  pleasure  did  he  quote  the  following  stan- 
zas, where  the  poet,  speaking  of  contentment, 
says, 


LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR.  Ixxxi 

"  She  finds  in  winter  many  a  view  to  please ; 
The  morning  landscape  fringed  with  frost-work  gay. 
The  sun  at  noon  seen  through  the  ieafless  trees, 
The  clear  calm  ether  at  the  close  of  day  : 
She  bids,  for  all,  our  grateful  praise  arise, 
To  Him,  whose  mandate  spake  the  world  to  form; 
Gave  Spring's  gay  bloom,  and  Summer's  cheerful  skies, 
And  Autumn'sNcorn-clad  field,  and  Winter's  sounding  storm.*' 

Within  the  last  few  months  of  his  life,  his 
sight  failed  exceedingly.  "  I  helieve  I  shall 
be  quite  blind,"  he  often  said  to  me  ;  and 
on  uij  repl}  ing,  "  I  hope  not,"  his  answer 
constantly  w  as,  "  I  have  neither  hope  nor 
fear  upon  the  subject,  and  do  not  you  fear.  I 
mention  it,"  he  continued,  "  merely  as  a  fact, 
not  as  a  subject  of  regret." 

About  the  middle  of  December,  1800,  he 
appeared  to  have  canght  cold,  but  it  was  not 
attended  by  any  symptoms  that  created  much 
unusual  alarm.  His  breathing,  indeed,  when 
in  a  recumbent  posture,  was  difficult,  but  it 
had  frequently  been  so  ever  since  his  last 
paralytick  attack.  On  Monday  the  23d,  a 
gentleman  called  upon  him,  whom  he  had  not 
seen  for  many  years  ;  and  being  forcibly  struck 
and  affected  by  his  extreme  feebleness,  lie 
said  to  him,  "  What  great  alterations,  sir,  have 
taken  place  since  we  last  met !"  '•  It  is  true," 
he  replied,  '-great  alterations  have  taken  place, 
yet,  I  assure  yon,  I  never  was  Jiappier  in  my 
life;"  and  he  then  enumerated  tlie  many 
Idossings    he   still  possessed.      At  night  he 

T. 


iKxxii  LIFE   OF   THE   AUTHOR. 

liad  a  shivering  fit,  after  which  he  sunk  rapid- 
ly ;  and,  ahout  two  o'clock,  on  the  morninj^  of 
the  34th  of  December,  without  a  groan  or  a 
sigh,  he  ended  his  earthly  pilgrimage.  He 
appeared  to  be  perfectly  sensible  to  the  last, 
and  fully  conscious  of  Iiis  own  situation  ;  thank- 
ed every  one,  repeatedly,  for  their  attention 
to  him,  antl  several  times  added  something 
more,  which  it  was  evident,  from  his  manner, 
was  of  the  consolatory  kind  to  his  sorrowing 
attendants  ;  but  his  articulation  was  so  im- 
perfect that  it  could  not  be  understood. 

If  the   reader  of  these  memoirs  has  ever 
possessed  such  a  friend,  and   has  experienced 
what  it  is  to  see  his  place  vacant,  he  will  then 
comprehend  what  are  the  feelings  of  the  wri- 
ter of  them  !     To  such  an  one,  how  inestima- 
ble are  the  hopes,  tlie  promises  of  the  gospel ! 
Well  did  our  blessed  Lord  understand  tbeir 
unspeakable  value,  wien,  in  one  of  his  beau- 
tifully prophetick   parables,  anticipating  the 
future  fates  of  the  gospel,  he  compares  it  to 
a  pearl  of  great  price,  which,  being  found  by 
a  merchantman,  he  went  and  sold  all  that  he 
had,    to    purchase    it! — "The    gospel   lives, 
though  the  preachers  of  the  gospel  die.     In 
that  there  is  no  change,  the  everlasting  gos- 
pel is  its  name.     No  vicissitudes  of  private 
life,  no  civil  tumults,  no  publick  revolutions, 
can  injure  or  endanger  it.     What  a  consola- 
tion !  It  has  comforted  our  departed  friends. 


LIFE  OF  THE   AUTHOR.  Ixxxiii 

When  we  are  dead,  it  will  comfort  our  sur- 
viving relatives.  It  will  j^uide  the  living,  and 
sustain  the  dying,  till  that  glorious  period  of 
the  Divine  4.(1  ministration  shall  arrive,  when 
sin,  and  pain,  and  death,  shall  be  no  more."* 
Amen.     Alleluia ! 

York,  May  19,   1805. 


*  Mr.  Cappe's  Sermon  on  the  death  of  Mr.  Sandercock,  1770. 


DISCOURSE    I. 

ON  FAITH    IN    GENERAL,    AND   RELIGIOUS  FAITH 
IN    PARTICULAR. 


Hebrews  xi.  1. 

Now  Faith  is  the  substance  of  things  hoped  for,  and  the  evidence  of 
things  unseen. 

r  AiTH  in  general  is  any  kind  of  persuasion,  proceed- 
ing from  testimony  concerning  any  thing  whatever, 
that  is  not  the  immediate  object  of  our  own  con- 
sciousness, or  of  our  own  senses.  Whatever  truths 
we  hold  upon  the  evidence  of  sense  or  consciousness, 
or  by  necessary  consequences  legitimately  deduced, 
these  truths  we  know :  on  the  other  hand,  whatever 
truths  we  derive  from  any  other  source  ;  be  it  from 
the  relation  of  others,  or  by  rational  deductions  from 
their  depositions,  these  truths  we  believe.  The  re- 
sult of  the  former  principles,  is  knowledge  ;  the  ef- 
fect of  the  latter,  faith.  Religious  knowledge  is 
very  seldom  distinguished  from  religious  faith  ;  and 
for  the  ordinary  purposes  of  life,  in  the  regulation 
of  our  temper,  and  the  direction  of  our  conduct, 
there  is  no  need  of  such  distinctions.  In  fact,  the 
far  greater  and  more  interesting  part  of  our  religious 
principles  is  derived  from  Faith  ;  yet  such  is  the 
degree  of  evidence  resulting  from  the  testimony  of 
Christ  and  his  Apostles,  respecting  those  truths 
which  we  receive  through  them,  that  our  faith  in 
these,  approaches  as  near  as  may  be  unto  know- 
ledge. 


r. 


86  On  Fii'dli  in  general,  and 

Religous  Faith  is  properly  that  conviction  con- 
cerning past,  future,  or  unseen  things,  relating  to 
God,  his  will,  his  counsels,  or  his  providence,  which 
is  produced  in  us,  by  the  testimony  of  prophets 
whom  he  hath  sent  and  authorized. 

This  it  is  in  respect  to  its  nature  and  its  origin  ; 
and  in  respect  to  its  effects,  the  Apostle  tells  us,  that 
"  it  is  the  substance  of  things  hoped  for,  the  evi- 
dence of  things  unseen."  Though  the  version  be 
somewhat  obscure,  yet  the  original  is  sufficiently 
perspicuous,  but  the  terms  of  it  are  of  such  a  nature, 
that  witliout  circumlocution  it  would  have  been  im- 
possible perhaps  to  have  expressed  the  sense  of  the 
passage  more  perfectly  than  in  the  words  of  the  text. 
It  is  not  however,  so  pioperly  a  philosophical  defi- 
nition of  Faith,  as,  according  to  the  manner  of  this 
Apostle,  a  rhetorical  encomium  on  it.  ''  Faith," 
says  he,  "  is  that  act  of  the  mind,  which  makes  things 
hoped  for,  lo  be  ;  it  is  that  principle  which  places 
things  unseen,  in  a  clear,  convincing,  and  affecting 
light.  It  gives  to  future  things  a  reality  in  respect 
to  us,  which  if  we  were  devoid  of  this  principle, 
however  certain  in  themselves,  they  would  not  have." 
And  havino^  said  so  much  of  Faith,  he  ooes  on  to 
enlarge  his  affirmation,  and  to  amplify  the  excel- 
lence of  his  subject,  by  extending  what  he  had  al- 
ready affirmed  concerning  the  objects  ot  hojie,  to 
whatever  things  which  are  not  in  themselves  the  ob- 
jects of  our  senses,  whether  past,  present,  or  to 
come. 

Faith  is  the  great  principle  of  the  Cliristian  lite, 
for  it  is  in  every  sense  true,  that  tiie  Christian  walks 
by  faith  and  not  by  sight;  he  is  neither  governed 
by  the  things  of  this  present  world,  nor  does  he  yet 
see  all  the  things  which  are  the  objects  of  his   prin- 


Religions  Faith  in  particular.  Sf 

cipal  attention,  affection,  and  pursuit.  The  wise 
and  good,  under  the  padiarchal,  and  Jewish  dispen- 
sations, walked  hy  faith;  and  arcordinglj  the  Apos- 
tle goes  on  to  celebrate  the  faith  of  Abel,  Enoch, 
Noah,  Abraham,  Isaac,  Jacob,  Joseph,  JVJoses,  and 
others  ;  characters  in  preceding  ages,  whose  virtues 
had  adorned  the  tinjes  and  dispensations  under 
which  they  lived.* 

Even  in  the  Gentile  world,  which  had  no  other 
notion  of  invisible  and  future  things,  than  what  was 
derived  from  the  light  of  nature,  aided  perhaps  by 
the  remains  of  primitive  tradition,  those  who  re- 
strained their  appetites  and  passions  respecting  sen- 
sible things,  and  present  interests,  from  a  reverence 
of  an  unseen  law-giver  and  observer  of  their  conduct  ; 
from  the  fear  of  an  invisible  judge ;  from  the  hojje 
that  by  this  means  heaven  would  be  rendered  pro- 
pitious to  them;  however  obscure,  imperfect,  or  even 
unjust  their  ideas,  either  of  the  divine  nature,  provi- 
dence, or  of  that  future  world,  might  be  ;  these  per- 
sons, notwithstanding,  walked  by  Faith. 

Faith  in  Christ,  is  a  firm  persuasion  that  what- 
ever he  hath  declared  is  true,  and  this  is  the  great 
difference  between  the  faith  of  Christians  and  the 
faith  of  others: — That  the  Faith  of  Christians,  if  it 
be  founded  on  the  word  of  God  and  correspond  to 
the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  is  more  extensive,  purer, 
and  more  lively  ;  that  it  embraces  a  greater  number 
of  interesting  and   important  truths,  concerning  un- 

*  The  cultivation  of  this  important  principle  is  not  merely  in  itself 
a  virtue  as  a  proof  of  our  trust  and  confidence  in  the  promises  of  God, 
but  becomes  eventually  the  parent  of  many  other  virtues,  by  its  pow- 
erful tendency  to  enlaige  and  spiritualize  the  human  mind;  by  teach- 
ing it  to  contemplate  our  present  actions  in  their  future  consequences, 
and  thus  firmly  to  withstand  the  influence  of  those  delusive  seduc- 
tions, which,  without  its  aid,  would  so  often  make  shipwreck  of  good 
conscience,  of  respectability,  of  hope,  and  of  happiness! — Editor. 


88  On  Faith  in  general,  and 

seen,  past,  and  future  things;  and  that,  although  it 
must  in  some  instances  be  attended  with  obscurity, 
because  the  objects  it  embraces  are  but  in  part  re- 
vealed, yet  that  it  is  not  in  any  instance  debased 
with  errour ;  and  also,  that  being  supported  by  a 
much  stronger  evidence,  it  is  natuially  more  produc- 
tive of  all  good  fruit,  and  is  a  steadier,  as  well  as  a 
more  active  principle  of  conduct. 

Faith  changes  the  fugitive  and  visionary  nature  of 
things  unseen,  whether  past,  present,  or  to  come,  in- 
to something  more  fixed  and  more  substantial  :  it 
transports  us  back  into  the  past,  and  interests  us  in 
the  events  of  a  thousand  ages  that  had  elapsed  be- 
fore we  were  called  into  being.  It  gives  us  to  be- 
hold that  important  moment,  when  the  Lord  spake 
and  it  was  done  ;  when  he  commanded,  and  all  things 
stood  fast;  and  fills  our  souls  with  those  delightful 
sentiments  of  wonder,  reverence,  and  love,  that 
would  have  seized  them,  had  we  been  present  when 
this  glorious  universe,  at  his  command,  burst  into 
existence ;  when  the  morning  stars  sang  together, 
and  the  first  born  sons  of  God  shouted  aloud  for 
joy.  Faith  displays  before  our  eyes  the  secret  go- 
vernment of  God,  and  shows  us  how  uncontrolable 
he  is,  how  wise,  how  just,  and  how  kind  in  all  his 
dispensations,  whether  of  the  natural,  the  civil,  or 
the  moral  world.  Faith  sets  before  us  that  most 
consolatory  and  delightful  scene,  the  great  and  good 
Father  of  all  continually  superintending  all  his 
works,  watching  over  every  creature  he  has  made, 
interested  even  for  the  falling  sparrow,  and  counting 
the  very  hairs  of  the  human  head  ! 

We  see  him  adornins:  even  this  scene  of  disci- 
pline  with  innumerable  beauties;  blessing  even  this 
childhood  of  our  beinff  with  innumerable  entertain- 


Religious  Faith  in  particular.  89 

ments  and  delights ;  dispensing  to  us  our  condition 
during  the  httle  period  of  our  sojourning  on  earth, 
with  all  the  tenderness  and  all  the  liberality  that 
consists  with  our  safe  arrival  in  that  better  world 
to  which  we  go,  and  with  our  interests  in  that  un- 
changeable and  everlasting  state.  We  see  this  holy 
God,  even  when  clouds  and  darkness  are  round 
about  him,  still  smiling  through  the  cloud  upon  his 
faithful  children,  lifting  up  the  light  of  his  counte- 
nance upon  them,  and  preparing  to  reward  them 
with  a  crown  of  life.  Faith  shows  us  this  almighty 
Monarch,  to  purify  the  iniquity  of  the  world,  break- 
ing up  the  fountains  of  the  deep,  and  opening  the 
windows  of  heaven.  Faith  shows  us  this  Avenger 
of  unrighteousness  bringing  down  a  fiery  tempest 
on  the  cities  of  the  plain  :  Faith  shows  us  this  Hope 
and  Confidence  of  his  people,  dividing  the  waters  of 
the  sea  to  preserve  the  armies  of  Israel,  and  instant- 
ly bringing  back  the  waters  that  he  had  divided, 
for  the  destruction  of  Pharaoh  and  his  host. 

By  Faith  we  see  this  God  and  Father  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  in  sending  Abraham  from  his 
country  and  his  father's  house;  in  changing  the  in- 
tended death  of  Joseph  into  servitude  in  Egypt  ; 
in  visiting  the  fruitful  country  of  Canaan  with  fa- 
mine ;  in  settling  the  house  of  Jacob  in  the  land  of 
Egypt  ;  in  multiplying  his  posterity  in  that  settle- 
ment ;  in  subjecting  them  to  the  tyranny  of  cruel 
and  oppressive  princes;  in  preserving  Moses  to  be 
their  deliverer  ;  in  the  plagues  by  him  inflicted  to 
obtain  for  them  the  deliverance  they  sought;  in  the 
law  that  was  given  them  at  Sinai  ;  in  the  peculiar 
constitution  under  which  they  were  at  last  settled  in 
the  promised  land;  in  all  the  revolutions  of  the 
Jewish  state  ;  in  their  prosperities  and  their  afflic- 
tions ;  in  their  independence   and   their   servitude  ; 


90  On  Faith  in  general,  and 

in  the  various  fates  of  many  powerful  kingdoms 
with  which  they  were  occasionally  connected  : — in 
all  these  events  we  see  by  Faith  the  God  and 
Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  rewarding  the 
virtues  and  chastising  the  vices  both  of  individuals 
and  of  nations  ;  exhibiting  the  most  striking  evi- 
dence tiiat  he  ruleth  in  the  kingdom  of  men  ;  dis- 
playing an  example  of  his  moral  government ;  and 
making  straight  the  way  for  the  gospel  of  his  Son 
to  have  free  course  and  be  glorified. 

By  Faith  we  hear  the  great  Arbiter  of  events, 
who  sees  the  end  from  the  beginning,  one  while  to 
reclaim  the  nations  from  their  iniquities,  warning 
them  of  the  evils  with  which  he  is  about  to  visit 
them  ;  and  another  while,  to  support  and  comfort 
his  repenting  people  in  their  troubles,  revealing  to 
them  the  deliverances  he  is  about  to  accomplish  for 
them;  and  all  along  from  period  to  period,  through 
a  long  succession  of  ages  and  generations,  promis- 
ing in  plainer  and  still  plainer  terms,  and  describing 
in  clearer  and  still  clearer  characters,  that  illus- 
trious personage  who  should  spread  the  knowledge 
of  God,  even  unto  the  ends  of  the  earth;  who 
should  put  an  end  to  sin,  bring  in  an  everlasting 
righteousness,  and  erect  a  kingdom  that  should 
never  cease. 

Faith  introduces  us  into  the  fields  of  Bethlehem, 
opens  our  ears  unto  the  Angels'  anthem,  and  dis- 
plays before  us  all  the  wonderful  events  that  accom- 
panied the  birth  of  this  prince  of  peace.  By  Faith 
we  are  present  at  the  gracious  words  that  proceed- 
ed out  of  his  mouth  ;  we  hear  the  divine  discourses 
that  he  addressed  unto  the  multitude,  and  are  ad- 
mitted to  that  more  intimate  communion  that  he  held 
with  his  immediate  disciples.     By  Faith  we   behold 


Religioits  Faith  in  jntrticiilar.  91 

the  sick  reviving  at  his  touch  ;  the  lame  leaping  at 
his  word ;  the  blind  gazing  with  astonishment  at 
that  powerful  friend  by  whom  lliey  had  regained 
their  sight;  and  the  dead  rising  from  their  graves 
to  bless  the  Abolisher  of  death.  By  Faith  we  see 
him  tried,  condemned,  and  crucified ;  dying,  in  the 
exercise  of  the  divinest  virtue,  a  malefactor's  death 
upon  the  cross.  By  Faith  we  see  him  sleeping  in 
the  tomb,  rising  from  the  dead  according  to  his  own 
prediction,  satisfying  the  doubts  of  his  disciples  and 
ascending  in  their  presence,  as  he  said  he  should  do, 
to  his  Father  and  their  Fathei-,  to  his  God  and  their 
God. 

By  Faith  we  see  the  angelick  guard,  that  attend- 
ed our  ascending  Lord,  and  hear  the  promise  which 
they  left  to  the  disciples,  "  this  same  Jesus  who  is 
taken  up  from  you  into  heaven,  shall  so  come  in 
like  manner,  as  he  was  seen  to  go  thilher."  Faith 
opens  to  us  the  eternal  gates,  draws  back  the 
veil  that  separates  between  earth  and  heaven, 
and  extends  our  prospect  far  beyond  the  re- 
gion of  the  shadow  of  death  ;  brings  us  into  the 
city  of  the  living  God  ;  shows  us  there  the  blessed 
Jesus,  for  his  obedience  unto  death,  crowned  with 
glory  and  honour,  and  seated  at  the  right  hand  of 
the  majesty  on  high.  She  shows  us  there,  the  in- 
numerable company  of  Angels,  the  spirits  of  just 
men  ojade  perfect,  settled  in  the  presence  of  our  hea- 
venly Father;  and  enables  us,  imperfectly  it  is  true, 
but  in  some  degree  enables  us,  to  anticipate  the 
happiness  of  so  blessed  a  communion.  Faith  has 
the  power  to  bring  forward  that  future  happiness  to 
make  glad  the  present  hour.  As  Faith  penetrates 
into  that  which  is  within  the  veil  whither  the  fore- 
runner is  for  us  entered,  so  before  her  eye  also, 
hell  is  naked,  and  destruction  has  no  coverins". 


92  On  Faith  in  general,  and 

Through  Faith  we  may  even  now  enjoy  that 
happy  day,  when  by  the  power  of  the  gospel,  peace, 
and  truth,  and  virtue  prevaiHng  throughout  the 
world,  shall  spread  their  blessed  influences  from  one 
end  of  the  eaith  to  the  other. — By  Faith  we  antici- 
pate the  glorious  period  when  the  great  destroyer, 
Death,  himself  shall  be  destioyed.  Through  Faith 
we  can  already  feel  somewhat  of  that  ecstatick  tri- 
umph that  will  seize  us,  when  waking  from  the  bed 
of  death,  we  shall  behold  the  face  of  God  in  right- 
eousness, and  at  length  be  satisfied  with  his  perfect 
likeness. 

Such  are  the  forepast  scenes  that  Faith  brings 
back  to  us;  such  are  the  invisible  transactions  that 
Faith  discovers  to  us;  such  are  the  great  futurities 
that  it  places  in  a  distinct  and  striking  view.  Does 
the  Apostle  say  too  much  of  faith  ?  is  he  too  lavish 
in  its  praise  ?  is  he  too  sanguine  in  commending  it  ? 
If  §uch  things,  so  deeply  interesting  to  us,  have 
been,  and  are,  and  are  to  be,  things  which  our  sen- 
ses cannot  reach,  who  would  not  be  thankful  for 
being  made  capable  of  that  principle  by  which  they 
are  revealed  unto  us  ?  who  would  not  be  thankful 
that  we  are  not  left  to  dark,  and  dubious,  and  vague 
conjectures  concerning  subjects  so  important  as  the 
orisrin,  and  ofovernment,  and  end  of  all  things  ?  that 
we  are  not  bewilderinac  ourselves  in  wild  ima^jina- 
lions,  nor  fleeting  from  uncertainty  to  uncertainty  ? 

Let  us  then  use  the  privileges  that  we  praise; 
while  we  bless  him  for  those  clear  discoveries  and 
overpowering  evidences  that  have  so  well  defined, 
and  so  firmly  fixed,  our  conceptions  of  invisible  and 
future  things,  let  us  live  as  they  ought  to  live,  who 
know  that  they  came  out  of  the  hands  of  God,  that 
they  are  the  subjects  of  his  governn»ent,  and  are 
going  hence  to  his  tribunal. 


Religious  Faith  in  particular.  93 


PRAYER. 

O  Lord  God  Almiglity,  we  believe  that  from  thee 
We  derived  our  being,  with  all  its  powers,  its  com- 
forts, and  its  hopes  ;  we  believe  that  we  continually 
act  in  thy  presence,  and  under  thy  inspection,  "who 
art  acquainted  with  all  our  ways;"  we  believe  that 
we  are  accountable  unto  thee  for  all  our  conduct, 
and  that  the  day  is  coming,  when  thou  shalt  jud^re 
the  world  in  righteousness,  and  when  all  shall  receive 
accordinij  to  their  deeds. 

We  lament  before  thee,  heavenly  Father,  that 
this  our  most  holy  faith  has  in  times  past  produced 
no  greater  influence  on  our  affections  and  our  con- 
versation. In  time  to  come  may  it  bring  forth  fruits 
meet  unto  repentance  !  May  we  be  more  thankful 
unto  thee  from  whose  bounty  all  our  blessings  flow, 
and  more  resig[ied  unto  thy  will,  without  whom  not 
an  atom  changes  its  place  throughout  the  boundless 
universe  !  In  all  our  conduct  may  we  behave  as 
seeing  thee  who  art  invisible.  May  we  admit  no- 
thing Into  our  hearts  that  we  could  desire  to  conceal 
from  thy  all  penetrating  eye;  nothing  into  our  con- 
duct of  which  we  shall  have  cause  to  be  ashamed 
at  thy  righteous  tribunal  !  *'  The  life  that  we  now 
live  in  the  flesh,  may  it  be  by  the  faith  of  the  son 
of  God,"  and  may  we  add  unto  our  faith  virtue, 
to  virtue  knowledge,  to  knowledge  temperance,  to 
temperance  patience,  to  patience  godliness,  to  god- 
liness brotherly  kindness,  and  to  brotherly  kind- 
ness charity,  that  these  things  being  in  us  and 
abounding,  we  may  not  be  barren  or  unfruitful  in 
the  knowledge  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour,  but  niay 
in  all   things  adorn  the  sacred  doctrine   we  profess. 

2 


DISCOURSE     11. 


FAITH    A    REASONABLE    PRINCIPLE. 


Hebrews    xi.    1. 

Faith  is  the  substance  of  things  hoped  for,  the   evidence   of 
things    unseen. 

r  AiTH  is  a  reasonable  principle.  There  is  nothing 
dark,  mysterious,  or  unintelligible  in  it  ;  nothing  for 
which  he  who  values  himself  most  upon  the  character 
of  reason,  has  any  cause  to  be  ashamed.  It  is  not 
an  enthusiastick  principle  that  rirst' gives  being  to 
dreams  and  visions,  and  then  supports  itself  upon 
imaginations  of  its  own  creating.  It  is  not  a  super- 
natural impression  proceeding  from  the  immediate 
agency  of  God,  capriciously  bestowed  where  he 
pleases  to  bestow  it,  and  denied  where  he  wills  it  to 
be  denied.  It  is  not  an  inexplicable  feeling  of 
we  know  not  what,  conceived  we  know  not  how, 
and  cherished  we  know  not  why  :  it  is  not  the 
persuasion  of  any  thing,  whether  good  or  evil, 
concerning  either  ourselves  or  any  other  being, 
taken  up  without  reason,  and  maintained  upon 
principles  that  may  not  be  duly  specified  and  ex- 
plained :  it  is  not  any  sudden  irradiation  of  the 
mind,  proceeding  from  whatever  cause  ;  for  Faith 
is  not  more  the  especial  gift  of  God,  than  Sight;  it 
is  equally  the  natural  and  necessary  result  of  the 
principles  that  compose  the  huuian  trame. — To 
an  eye  duly  formed,  present  any  object  of  the  visi- 


Failh   a   reasonable  principle.  95 

ble  world,  and  it  is  seen  :  to  a  mind  attentive  and 
undepraved,  propose  the  evidence  concerning  any 
truth  that  respects  the  world  invisible,  concerning 
either  distant  objects,  past  transactions,  or  events 
yet  to  come,  and  in  proportion  to  the  strength  of 
that  evidence,  it  is  believed.  W  hatever  persuasion  is 
taken  up  against  evidence  or  without  it,  is  bhnd 
presumption,  or  romantick  imagination,  and  not 
Faith. 

Faith  is  as  much  the  effect  of  evidence,  as  sight  is 
the  effect  of  sensible  impression  ;  nor  is  the  one 
more  absolutely  dependent  on  its  cause,  or  more 
closelj'  connected  with  it,  than  the  other.  It  is  a 
law  of  our  nature,  that  in  such  and  such  circum- 
stances, we  shall  see  ;  and  it  is  as  much  a  law  of 
our  nature,  that  in  such  and  such  circumstances,  we 
shall  believe.  If  we  will  be  judging  of  such  visible 
things  as  are  beyond  the  sphere  of  clear  and  dis- 
tinct vision,  no  man  would  call  these  presumptuous 
fancies,  however  strongly  we  might  be  attached  to 
them,  sight ;  and  in  like  manner,  if  we  would  be 
judging  of  things  invisible,  to  which  the  light  of 
evidence  does  not  reach,  no  man  should  call  these 
visions  of  imagination.  Faith  :  they  are  both  of  them 
the  reveries  of  a  capricious  or  disordered  mind  ;  a 
partial  frenzy,  which  only  requires  to  be  extended 
to  a  greater  multitude  of  objects,  to  render  the 
perversion  of  our  understandings  both  manifest 
and  deplorable. — What  sight  is  in  the  natural  world, 
with  respect  to  things  visible  and  present.  Faith  is 
in  the  spiritual  world,  with  respect  to  things  absent 
and  invisible  :  to  believe,  on  sufficient  evidence,  is 
as  natural  as  to  perceive ;  and  in  thus  believing, 
there  is  nothing  more  unreasonable,  inexplicable, 
or  indefensible,  than  in  seeing  with  our  open 
eyes    the   prospect  that    presents  itself  before   u?. 


9G  Faith   a   reasonable  principle. 

Faith  then  is  a  principle  no  more  peculiar  to 
religion  in  general,  than  it  is  peculiar  to  the  Christian 
religion  in  particular.  Even  those,  who  mosi  affect 
to  treat  it  with  ridicule  and  contempt  in  the  disciples 
of  Christ,  are  themselves  obliged,  and  they  are 
satisfied  with  the  obligation,  to  act  upon  it  every 
day  and  every  hour  of  their  lives  :  it  is  the  very 
prmciple  which,  in  the  ordinary  affairs  of  life, 
regulates  and  governs  by  far  the  greater  part  of 
their  thoughts,  their  affections,  and  their  conduct. 

Do  they  really  knoia  every  thing  that  they  think 
they  know,  in  their  domestick,  their  commercial, 
or  their  civil  concerns  and  occupations  ?  Let  them 
examine  those  things  of  which  they  have  the 
firmest  persuasion,  as  they  think  the  most  infallible 
certainty,  and  they  will  find  very  few  of  them  that 
are  objects  of  sense  or  consciousness  :  they  are  not 
known^  they  are  only  believed. 

Do  they  know.,  that  the  food  to  which  they  are 
sat  down  is  safe  and  salutary  }  or  do  they  refuse 
to  partake  of  what  they  have  not  with  their  own 
hands  prepared,  for  fear  of  disgracing  the  character 
of  reason  ? — Do  they  know  that  the  medicine  admin- 
istered to  them  in  sickness,  is  composed  of  useful 
or  innocent  ingredients  }  do  they  know  that  these 
are  faithfully  prepared,  and  judiciously  combined  } 
or,  for  fear  of  doing  an  unreasonable  thing,  for  fear 
of  exposing  themselves  to  ridicule  or  censure,  do 
they  refuse  to  take  it  till  they  have  carefully  exa- 
mined the  composition,  and  have  themselves  been 
witness  of  the  effects,  in  experiments  on  others  ^ 

They  sit  down  at  night,  planning  schemes  of 
business  or  of  pleasure  for  the  morrow  ;  layitJg 
themselves,  it  may  be,  under  obligations  and  engage- 


Faith  a  reasonable  principle.  9f 

ments  for  a  lon^  time  to  come  :  Do  they  see  the  sun 
hastening  to  bring  back  the  returning  day  ?  do  they 
know  that  the  scythe  of  death  is  yet  far  distant 
from  them  ?  are  they  certain  what  a  day  may  bring 
forth  ?  can  they  see  through  the  darkness  of  the 
night,  what  siiall  be  on  tlie  morrow  ? — Does  any 
man  deny  obedience  to  the  civil  powers  because 
he  has  never  seen  them  ?  Does  the  tradesman  act 
unreasonably  in  preparing  his  merchandise  before 
he  sees  tfie  buyer  coming  ?  Is  it  any  mark  of  weak- 
ness or  of  folly  in  him,  that  he  buys,  with  no  better 
security  that  he  shall  sell  again,  than  what  he  may 
know  in  general  respecting  the  wants,  the  disposi- 
tions, and  the  customs  of  mankind  ?  Is  it  any  thing 
ridiculous  for  the  merchant  to  send  orders  to  distant 
countries,  for  commodities  which  he  has  been  ordy 
told,  by  those  wlio  have  only  heard,  and  who  perhaps 
are  themselves  interested  in  making  the  declaration, 
that  such  commodities  are  produced  there  ?  Must 
he  go  himself  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  before  he 
can  with  any  degree  of  reason  transmit  his  merchan- 
dise into  these  countries,  because  he  has  no  other 
persuasion  but  what  testimony  has  created  in  him, 
that  there  are  agents  there,  who  may  be  trusted  to 
transact  his  business,  and  inhabitants  to  consume, 
or  use  what  he  may  send  thither  ?  Must  the  hus- 
bandman try  his  seed,  before  he  can  be  justified  in 
sowing  it,  and  lose  a  season  in  experiments  upon  its 
fruitfulness,  before  he  can  reasonably  venture  on  the 
expectation  of  a  harvest  from  it  ? 

In  all  these,  and  in  a  thousand  other  instances, 
Faith  is  the  principle  upon  which  men  resolve 
and  act ;  there  is  no  other  principle  that  has  so 
constant  and  extensive  an  influence  upon  them. 
You  cannot  even  go  to  a  place  where  you  have 
never  been,  but  it  is  by  Faith  you  go  thither.      You 


98  Faith  a  reasonable  principle. 

cannot  seek  a  person  you  have  never  seen,  but  it 
is  by  Faith  you  seek  him :  the  most  trivial  and 
most  important  actions  of  our  lives  are  almost  all 
equally  dependent  on  it. 

Even  our  moral  conduct^  in  the  most  serious 
and  the  most  momentous  instances,  rests  on  Faith 
as  its  foundation.  For  if  Faith  be  an  unreasonable 
principle  of  action,  if  it  be  not  a  sufficient  ground 
to  go  upon,  then  it  is  most  undoubtedly  an  unrea- 
sonable and  unjustifiable  thing,  for  any  man  to 
entertain  the  sentiments  of  filial  affection,  or  fraternal 
love.  If  we  disgrace  our  nature,  when  we  act 
upon  the  principle  of  iaith  and  yield  to  the  evidence 
of  testimony,  then  is  it  a  disgrace  to  nature,  for  any 
man  to  honour  and  obey  another,  as  his  parent;  we 
do  ourselves  injustice  when  we  own  ourselves  to  be 
their  children  who  call  us  such,  and  we  are  guilty,  if 
not  of  a  crime,  yet  at  least  of  an  absurdity,  when 
we  cultivate  a  peculiar  tenderness  towards  any  who 
were  born  before  us,  under  the  idea  that  it  is  a 
sister  or  a  brother  for  whom  we  cultivate  this  re- 
spect, and  to  whom,  on  account  of  this  connexion,  it 
is  due  from  us. 

Sense  and  experience  is  confined  within  very 
narrow  limits.  The  objects  to  which  our  know- 
ledge can  extend  are  very  few  ;  when  the  sphere 
of  our  affection  and  activity  go  beyond  these,  it  is 
Faith,  not  knowledge,  that  carries  out  our  views, 
our  passions,  and  pursuits  ;  it  is  Faith  that  directs, 
supports,  and  animates  them.  He  who  should 
resolve  that  his  practice  should  go  no  farther  than 
his  knowledge,  that  he  would  believe  nothing  ;  that 
he  would  suffer  no  desires  to  rise  in  his  heart,  and 
no  actions  to  proceed  from  him,  but  upon  the  con- 
viction of  his  own  experience,  would  in  effect  resolve 


Faith  a   reasonable  principle.  99 

to  lead  a  life  so  extremely  ridiculous  and  uncomfort- 
able, that  it  ought  to  be  reckoned  among  its  best 
circumstances,  that  if  he  kept  his  resolution,  his  life 
would  in  all  probability  be  very  short. 

Almost  all  the  affairs  of  life  are  transacted  upon 
the  evidence  of  testimony  and  under  the  influence 
of  Faith ;  and  yet  mankind,  in  all  the  reproaches 
they  have  thrown  one  upon  another,  never  thought 
that  upon  this  account  they  could  upbraid,  or  be 
upbraided.  Even  the  most  licentious  ridiculer  of 
this  principle,  never  dreamed  that  he  was  charge- 
able with  weakness  and  absurdity  for  the  influence 
that  he  allowed  it  to  have  over  him,  and  would 
have  joined  as  heartily  in  exposinsx  him  who  to- 
tally disowned  it  in  the  aifairs  of  this  world,  as  him 
who  abounded  in  it,  in  respect  to  the  concerns  of 
another. 

It  is  in  matters  of  religion  only  that  Faith  is  so 
weak,  ridiculous,  and  absurd ;  for  there,  instead 
of  gratitying  our  irregular  inclinations,  it  reproves 
them  ;  it  calls  away  the  attention  of  mankind  from 
this  present  world  ;  it  would  moderate  their  attach- 
ment to  it,  and  their  expectation  from  it,  and  would 
engage  them  in  the  pursuit  of  the  invisible  and 
future  things  of  another  world  ;  things  in  themselves 
indeed  more  important,  but  not  so  well  suited  to 
the  taste  of  the  ambitious,  the  sensual,  or  the  car- 
nal mind.  But  does  the  dislike  of  them  destroy 
their  reality  ?  Does  it  annihilate  the  evidence  of 
these  things  ?  Is  it  the  less  certain  that  they  are, 
or  that  they  will  be,  because  the  men  of  this  world 
are  less  willing  to  believe  them  ?  Does  the  reason- 
ableness of  Faith  diminish,  as  the  importance  of  its 
objects  rises  ?  Is  it  reasonable  to  act  upon  it  in 
respect  of  this  present   life,  and  not  in   respect  of 


100  Faith    a   reasonable  principle. 

that  which  is  to  come  ?  Is  it  right  that  we  should 
be  guided  and  governed  by  it  in  regard  to  the  tran- 
sitory trifles  of  this  present  state,  and  right  also 
that  we  should  disclaim  and  resist  it,  in  regard  to 
the  infinitely  more  important  interests  of  that  which 
Is  unchangeable  and  everlasting  ? 

If  there  be  a  world  invisible  ;  if  there  be  a  future 
state  into  which  we  are,  ere  long,  to  be  removed, — 
if  the  powers  of  that  world  invisible  be  favourably  or 
unfavourably  disposed  towards  us  accoidnig  to  our 
conduct  in  the  present, — and  moreover,  if  our  condi- 
tion in  that  future  state,  will  depend  upon  the  prepa- 
ration we  make  for  it  in  this,  what  is  the  evidence  that 
should  determine  us  to  regard  these  things  ?  The  evi- 
dence o^  sense  is  excluded  by  the  very  nature  of  the 
objects  ;  if  this  w^^e  to  be  obtained,  they  could  not 
then  be  invisioie  and  future  ;  the  evidence  of  testi- 
mony is  all  the  evidence  we  can  obtain  of  such 
objects,  and  having  this,  is  it  right  to  treat  them  as 
chimeras  ?  to  forget,  to  overlook,  or  to  despise 
them,  as  the  unsubstantial  fictions  of  a  wild  Imagina- 
tion ? — We  could  only  treat  them  thus,  if  we  were 
conscious  that  they  were  the  d-eams  of  our  own 
fancy,  and  that  we  had  no  evidence  at  all  concerning 
them.  If  it  be  unjustifiable  to  give  no  attention  to 
those  things,  which  if  they  have  a  being,  are  most 
deeply  interesting  to  us,  and  of  the  existence  of 
which  we  have  all  the  evidence  that  the  nature  of 
them  will  admit,  then,  our  faith  in  these  things  can 
be  no  matter  of  reproach  to  us  ;  it  is  a  just  and 
reasonable  principle. — Will  it  bear  a  doubt  who 
acts  the  wiser  part,  tie,  who  resisting  the  evi- 
dence of  an  invisible  and  future  world  divests 
himself  of  all  concern  about  it,  or  he,  who  yield- 
intr  to  the  evidence  of  its  reality,  attends  to  it,  ex- 
pects it,  and  forms  his  life   upon   the  expectation. 


Faith  a  reasonable  principle.  101 

Can  it  be  reasonable  to  distrust  that  principle 
in  regard  to  the  invisible  and  future  things  of  the 
eternal  world,  which  we  rely  upon,  which  we 
act  upon,  in  regard  to  the  invisible  and  future 
things  of  the  present  ?  What  is  there  that  should 
make  a  difference  ?  If  the  testimony  in  the  one  case 
be  as  credible  as  the  testimony  in  the  other,  the 
Faith  is  in  both  circumstances  alike  reasonable, 
and  he  who  yields  it  in  the  one,  and  withholds 
it  in  the  other,  who,  either  in  word  or  deed, 
in  the  one  case  countenances  and  approves,  and  in 
the  other,  vilifies  and  depreciates  it,  has  no  cause  to 
value  himself  upon  the  reasonableness  of  his  charac- 
ter, his  own  mouth  accuseth  him,  and  by  his  own 
conduct  he  is  condemned. 

Whatever  evidence,  either  in  kind  or  in  de- 
gree, determines  us  to  regard  what  is  not  yet 
sensible  and  present  in  this  earthly  scene,  and  to 
make  them  in  any  respect  the  objects  of  our  atten- 
tion and  pursuit,  ought  in  all  reason  to  determine 
us  to  pay  a  like  regard  to  such  objects  as  belong  to 
any  other  scene  of  being,  and  to  give  them  a  just 
proportion  of  our  care  and  labour,  according  to  their 
worth. 

We  may  even  venture  to  say  more  ;  the  conduct 
of  mankind  with  respect  to  the  futurities  of  this  life, 
justifies  it.  It  is  not  only  reasonable  that  we  should 
embrace  the  futurities  of  another  world  upon  the 
same  kind  and  the  same  degree  of  evidence  on 
which  we  embrace  the  futurities  of  this  ;  it  is  reason- 
able that  we  should  embrace  them  even  upon  less 
evidence,  and  that  our  affections  and  regard  to  them 
should  be  more  lively,  and  our  conduct  in  respect 
of  them  more  vigorous  and  resolute,  even  though 


10-2  Faith   a   reasonable  principle. 

we  have  less  reason  in  this  instance  to  be  satisfied 
with    the   testimony   we    have    received    concerning 
them,  and   more  cause   to  apprehend  that  we  may 
possibly    be   mistaken    or  deceived.     A    very    light 
probability  is  sufficient   to  keep  us  upon  our  guard 
against    a  dreadful    evil.     It  is  expected,  and   rea- 
sonably expected,  that  it  should  do  so.     And  on  the 
other  hand,  it  is  universally  acknowledged,  that  for 
a  vast  advantage,  our  cares  and  labours  should  be 
hazarded  on  a  small  assurance.     The  most  circum- 
spect and   severest  reason  will  readily  allow,  that  if 
there  be  indeed  ani/  evidence  of  a  future  everlasting 
world,  which  shall  succeed   the   present  short   and 
transitory  scene,  where  all  shall  receive  according  to 
their  works,  whatever  were  the   means  and    condi- 
tions of  avoiding  the  evils  and  obtaining  the  blessings 
of  such  a  state,  the  infinite  importance  of  the  object, 
would  in  fact,  to  a  mind  well  constituted  and  unde- 
praved,  and  upon  every  mind  ought  in  all  reason  to 
make  up  what  might  be  wanting  in  the  evidence  to 
complete  the  certainty  of  the  evidence   of  such   a 
state,  and  to  give  it  all  its  influence  upon  our  hearts 
and  conduct.     This  effect  it  ought  to  produce,  what- 
ever might  be   the  terms  of  inheriting  this  expected 
happiness;  but  if  these  terms  are  nothing  more  than 
a   strict   avoidance   of  those   evils    which    prudence 
would  forbid  even  in  consideration  of   the   present 
world,  what  shall    we  say  of  'die   wisdom   of  those 
who    affect    to    despise,    or    neglect    to    attend    to 
them  ? 

These  considerations  perhaps  are  more  than  suf- 
ficient to  illustrate,  as  well  as  to  evince  the  proposi- 
tion laid  down,  that  Faith  is  a  reasonable  principle. 
To  these  I  would  subjoin  the  following  remarks, 
which  are  clearly  deducible  from  the  subject. 


Faith   a   reasonable  principle.  103 

1.  Since  Faith  is  a  reasonable  principle,  we  have 
no  cause  to  be  ashamed  of  it.  Does  any  man  make 
it  the  subject  of  ridicule  ?  There  will  be  no  difficulty 
in  convincin<T  others  at  least,  if  not  himself,  that  he 
is  more  ridiculous  than  the  Christian  believer ;  for 
while  he  fancies  that  he  walks  by  sight,  he  is  really 
governed  by  a  Faith  that  argues  much  greater 
credulity.  z 

2.  If  Faith  in  general  be  a  reasonable  principle, 
how  much  more  reasonable  is  the  Christian's  faith  ? 
He  derives  his  belief  of  invisible  and  future  things 
from  authority  the  most  unquestionable  ;  warranted, 
not  only  by  all  the  evidence  that  supports  the  faith 
of  other  men,  but  moreover  by  the  evidence  of  pro- 
phecy and  miracle.  His  faith  requires  of  him  no 
more  than  theirs,  no  more  than  reason  acquiesces 
in,  and  it  produces  much  better  authority  for  the  de- 
mands it  makes. 

3.  It  may  not  be  improper  to  observe,  that  how- 
ever natural  and  just  the  distinction  between  faith 
and  reason,  yet  it  ought  not  to  be  made  without 
some  caution  and  restriction.  A  great  part  ot 
what  we  ordinarily  call  reason,  is  indeed  faith;  and 
faith  is  itself  an  act  of  reason.  To  believe  upon  suffi- 
cient testimony,  is  one  among  many  other  charac 
teristicks  of  reason  and  intellioence. 


Q 


4.  If  Faith  be  a  reasonable  principle,  we  should 
take  care  that  we  call  nothing  unreasonable  by  that 
name,  lest  we  bring  a  reproach  upon  a  principle 
that  is  so  natural,  and  so  useful,  and  so  important 
to  the  happiness  of  man.  Whatever  has  not  evi- 
dence to  justify  it,  is  prejudice,  is  presumption,  it 
may  be  called  by  any  name  of  folly,  it  is  not  Faith. 
Let  us  sift  our  opinions  concerning  things  invisible, 
whether  past,  present,  or  future,  and  let  us  at  least 


104  Faith   a   reasonable  principle. 

so  far  separate  the  chaff  from  the  wheat,  as  to  give 
the  narae  of  Faith,  to  nothing  that  has  not  the  sup- 
port of  argument. 

5.  If  Faith  be  a  reasonable  principle,  we  need  not 
be  suspicious  of  any  means  that  are  proposed  to 
confirm  us  in  it :  can  we  be  too  well  established  in 
what  is  just  and  right  ?  And  lastlj, 

6.  If  Faith  be  a  reasonable  principle,  we  need 
not  be  afraid  of  pursuing  it  through  all  its  conse- 
quences. Nothing  but  what  is  right  can  come  of 
what  is  reasonable ;  it  must  be  diverted  from  its 
natural  course,  or  corrupted  by  some  foreign  inter- 
mixture, before  it  can  dictate  or  induce  to  what  is 
wrong.  If  our  Faith  be  the  pure  result  of  evidence, 
it  will  give  us  comfort,  and  do  us  honour,  to  show  it 
in  our  works. 


PRAYER. 

Holy,   holy,  holy  Lord  God  Almighty,  who  art, 

and  wast,  and  art  to  come.      Glory  and  honour  and 

thanks  be  unto  him  that  sitteth  upon  the  throne,  and 

who  liveth  for  ever  and  ever  !  Thou  art  worthy,  O 

Lord,  to  receive  glory  and   honour  and  power,  for 

thou  hast  created  all  things,  and  of  thy  good  pleasure 

they  are  and  were  created.     The  invisible  things  of 

God  from  the  creation  of  the  world  are  clearly  seen, 

being  understood  by  the  things  that  are  made,  even 

the   Maker's   eternal  power  and   godhead,  so   that 

they  are  without  excuse,  who  having  such  discoveries 

of  God,  and  such  evidences  that  he  is  the  former  of 

their  bodies,  and  the  father  of  their  spirits,  and  the 

author  of  their  enjoyments,  glorify  him  not  as  God, 

and  are  not  thankful.      May  our  faith  be  that  holy 


Faith   a   reasonable  principle.  105 

active  principle  that  purifies  the  heart,  that  woiks 
bj  love,  and  overcomes  the  present  world.  May 
the  word  of  Christ  dwell  richly  in  us  with  all  wis- 
dom ;  may  we  be  led  to  a  more  perfect  acquaintance 
with  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  and  by  that  truth 
may  we  be  sanctified.  As  we  draw  nearer  unto 
heaven,  may  we  become  more  heavenly-minded, 
more  assimilated  to  those  pure  and  holy  spirits  that 
reside  there,  and  more  meet  to  partake  with  them 
in  their  employments  and  their  happiness.  While 
we  are  in  the  world  in  well  doing,  and  in  the  exercise 
of  a  firm  and  lively  faith,  we  would  humbly  com- 
mend the  keeping  of  our  souls  and  the  disposal  of 
all  our  affairs  unto  thee. 

May  we  not  be  governed  by  things  seen  and  tem- 
poral, but  by  a  just  regard  to  those  that  are  unseen 
and  everlasting ;  and  may  that  Faith  which  is  the 
substance  of  things  hoped  for,  and  the  evidence  of 
things  not  seen,  preserve  us  that  we  yield  not  to 
the  tenjptations  to  which  we  are  exposed,  and  ani- 
mate us  so  resolutely  to  resist  the  world,  when  the 
things  of  the  world  would  either  deter  or  allure  us 
from  our  duty,  that  finally  we  may  come  off  more 
than  conquerors  through  him  who  loved  us. 


DISCOURSE    III. 

FAITH    A    DESIRABLE    AND    I31P0RTANT 
PRINCIPLE. 


Hebrews  xi.  1. 

Faith  is  the  substance  of  things  hoped  for,  the  evidence  of  things 

unseen. 

Faith  is  that  principle  through  which  we  appre- 
hend the  existence  of  invisible  things,  whether  past, 
present,  or  future,  or  which  stands  instead  of  the 
perception  of  such  things,  as  in  our  present  circum- 
stances, or  with  our  present  powers,  cannot  be 
perceived.  It  is  therefore  a  most  desirable  and 
important  principle,  because  it  is  suited  to  the  wants 
and  imperfections  of  the  human  mind. 

If  the  human  mind  were  not  so  constituted,  as 
to  relj  upon  testimony  when  it  is  not  attended  with 
suspicious  circumstances,  that  is,  to  be  capable  of 
Faith,  the  experience  of  former  ages  would  have 
been  of  small  advantage  to  their  successors.  In 
many  instances  we  should  have  been  deprived  of 
those  improvements  which  we  now  assume  as  the 
foundation  of  our  own ;  and  the  generations  of 
mankind,  which  are  now  from  age  to  age  extend- 
ing their  improvements,  would,  like  the  succes- 
sive generations  of  the  inferiour  creatures,  have 
borne  a  great  resemblance  to  each  other.  Each 
creneration  would  have  had  just  such  a  portion  of 


Faith  a  desirable  and  important  principle.     107 

knowledge  respecting  the  world  in  which  they  liv- 
ed, of  the  nature  they  possest,  and  of  the  laws  by 
which  both  were  respectively  governed,  as  might 
result  from  their  own  observation,  and  very  little 
more.  Besides,  the  curiosity  of  the  human  mind 
concerning  things  to  come,  is  so  great  and  power- 
ful, that  it  has  in  all  ages  and  in  all  countries  en- 
gaged the  weak  and  credulous,  and  sometimes, 
even  those  who  were  in  reputation  for  wisdom  and 
honour,  in  the  most  absurd  practices,  in  order  to 
arrive  at  some  knowledore  of  them.  Is  it  not  then 
desirable,  is  it  not  important  to  the  peace  and  com- 
fort of  mankind,  that  all  vain  imaginations,  and 
groundless  conjectures,  and  perplexing  doubts  con- 
cerning future  things  should  be  banished  from  their 
mind,  by  receiving  and  entertaining  the  just  impres- 
sions to  be  derived  from  credible  information  con- 
cerning such  of  them  as  it  is  most  important  for  us 
to  be  acquainted  with.'*  acconspanied  with  an  assu- 
rance, upon  the  same  authority,  that  no  pther  futu- 
rities can  by  any  means  whatever  be  discovered  by 
us  ? 

It  Is  nothing  improbable  that  there  may  be  a  vast 
variety  of  events  to  come,  in  which  we  have  the 
greatest  interest ;  and  the  very  possibility  that  it  may 
be  so,  renders  it  a  desirable  circumstance  that  we 
should  be  well  instructed  and  rationally  persuaded 
concerning  what  we  are  to  expect.  We  are  to  die, 
and  rise  again,  and  be  judged.  The  certainty  of 
these  events  depends  not  at  all  upon  our  persuasion 
concerning  them  :  though  we  had  wrought  ourselves 
into  the  most  confident  assurance  that  these  things 
should  never  come  to  pass,  the  decree  of  the  Al- 
mighty would  not  thereby  be  altered.  No  man  can 
doubt  that,  being  mortal,  it  is  important  for  him  to 
believe  that  he  shall  die  :   can  it  then   be  less  impor- 


100  Faith  a  desirable 

tant.  is  it  less  momentous,  that  the  moral  subjects  of 
God's  kingdom  should  believe  that  they  are  account- 
able to  him  for  all  their  conduct?  is  it  desirable 
that  the  faitfiful  Christian  should  have  no  knowledge 
of  the  glories  and  felicities  to  which  he  is  hereafter 
to  be  promoted  ?  Tliat  he  should  carefully  defend 
himself  against  all  hope  from  a  world  to  come, 
and  should  treat  the  most  credible  testimony  con- 
cerning it  as  the  dreams  and  fictions  of  a  seducing 
imagination  ?  Is  it  desirable  that  the  sinner  should 
have  no  suspicion  of  the  dreadful  sentence  that  is  to 
be  pronounced  upon  him  ;  that  he  should  carelessly 
overlook,  or  industriously  shun,  or  obstinately  re- 
sist, whatever  might  lead  him  to  such  an  expecta- 
tion ?  that  he  should  treat  it  as  a  vain  alarm,  the 
suggestion  of  groundless  terrour,  the  creature  of  a 
timid  and  disordered  fancy  ?  If  this  is  not  desir- 
able, then  is  Faith  a  most  salutary  and  important 
principle.     Again, 


Faith  is  a  desirable  and  important   principle,  as  it 
troduce 
tainment. 


introduces  us  to  a  fund  of  the  most  delio-htful  enter- 

9 


Every  thing  is  desirable  that  is  a  source  of  true 
pleasure  ;  every  thing  is  important  that  contributes 
to  the  best  enjoyment  even  of  this  present  life. — 
When  we  best  enjoy  the  circumstances  in  which 
God  hath  placed  us,  our  views  of  life  are  most  com- 
fortable to  ourselves,  and  most  honourable  to  its 
Author;  our  sense  of  obligation  to  him  is  more  live- 
ly, and  our  obedience  to  his  laws  more  cheerful. 
Then  too,  when  we  best  enjoy  our  own  circumstan- 
ces, we  shall  be  best  enjoyed  by  those  about  us; 
and  our  services  will  be  most  freely  and  most  effec- 
tually extended  towards  them  also.  It  is  not  there- 
fore   unimportant   to   consult,  in  any  instance,   the 


and  important  principle.  109 

coiiitbrt  of  our  present  being;  it  is  desirable,  not 
onlj  for  itself,  but  also  for  its  effects  and  consequen- 
ces :  if  therefore  Faith  had  nothing  else  to  recom- 
mend it,  but,  that  being  in  itself  reasonable,  it  ad- 
ministers to  our  entertainment  and  delight,  it  must 
be  owned  to  be  a  desirable  and  important  principle. 

Setting  aside  every  other  consideration  but  that 
of  pleasure,  of  agreeable  and  comfortable  contem- 
plation to  employ  the  leisure  and  to  soothe  the  cares 
of  life,  would  it  be  desirable  to  change  conditions,  if 
we  could  do  it,  with  him  who  knows  nothing  of  an 
unseen  world,  nothing  of  the  great  scheme  of  Pro- 
vidence, nothing  of  the  primeval  history,  and  no- 
thing:  of  the  future  fates  of  men  ?  Would  we  wish 
that  our  pleasures  should,  like  his,  be  contracted 
within  what  eye  can  see,  ear  can  hear,  and  hand 
can  reach  ? — Would  we  choose  that  all  the  sweet, 
the  awful,  the  macrnificent,  and  interesting  scenes 
that  Faith  reveals  to  us,  should  for  ever  be  blotted 
out  from  the  thouo-hts  and  imaginations  of  our 
hearts  ?  Were  it  desirable  that  our  souls  should 
never  more  be  suspended  in  astonishment,  or  elevat- 
ed into  joy,  or  melted  into  tenderness  by  the  great 
and  important  objects  that  Faith  presents  to  our 
view?  Whose  is,  or  rather  perhaps  the  question 
ought  to  be,  whose  might  be,  the  happier  life;  ours, 
to  whom  these  things  are  discovered  by  the  light  of 
Faith,  if  knowing^  them  we  attend  to  them  and  feel 
their  due  influence,  or  his,  to  whom  nothing  is  re- 
vealed but  the  immediate  objects  of  his  sense, — from 
whom  all  the  future  scenes  of  the  divine  govern- 
ment, and  every  object  of  the  world  invisible,  are 
concealed  in  clouds  and  darkness  ? 


110  Faith  a  desirable 

Is  it  pleasant  to  have  the  mind  extended  to  the  ut- 
most stretch  of  its  capacities,  raised  into  important 
expectation,  oi*  suspended  in  astonishment  and  reve- 
rence ?  It  is:  and  what  is  theje  more  capable 
of  exciting  these  sentiments  of  Vvonder  and  delight 
than  the  contemplation  of  an  universe  rising  into 
being  at  the  word  of  God,  takiiig  all  its  infinite 
vicissitudes  and  changes  from  his  command ;  by  him 
conducted  thiough  innumerable  revolutions,  during 
an  immense  series  of  countless  ages  and  genera- 
tions? What  is  there  more  capable  of  exciting 
these  pleasing  sentiments,  than  to  compare  together 
the  primeval  state,  the  present  condition,  and  the 
possible  catastrophe  of  this  world  ?  to  contemplate 
that  important  day  when  God  spake  and  it  was  done, 
through  all  its  various  consequences,  to  that  solemn 
moment  when  he  shall  speak  again,  and  the  hea- 
vens shall  melt  away,  and  the  earth  and  all  that  is 
therein  shall  be  burnt  up,  and  new  heavens  and  a 
new  earth  shall  arise  from  that  prolifick  flame  ? 

Is  there  no  more  entertainment  to  an  intelligent 
spectator,  no  more  consolation  to  a  heart  of  sensibi- 
lity in  beholding  the  universe  as  an  eternal  monu- 
ment of  the  greatness  and  the  goodness  of  its  Ma- 
ker, than  in  contemplating  it  merely  as  a  great 
and  vast  object,  ignoj  ant  of  its  origin  and  depen- 
dence ?  than  in  wanderinor  in  the  doubtful  maze  of  a 
vain  imagination,  fluctuating  from  uncertainty  to  un- 
certainty concerning  it?  Is  it  more  comfortable,  is 
it  more  delightful,  to  look  upon  the  universe  as  a  ves- 
sel without  a  governour,  driven  we  know  not  whi- 
ther, by  we  know  not  what,  subject  in  all  its  parts 
to  perpetual  accidents  and  unexpected  revolutions, 
which  its  wisest  and  most  powerful  inhabitants  can 
neither  control  nor  regulate  ;  than  to  consider  it  as 
being  under   the    direction    of   an   able  and   skilful 


and   iniporlant  principle.  IH 

pilot,  whose  counsels,  though  we  cannot  in  every 
instance  fathom  them,  are  nevertheless,  in  every  in- 
stance, wise  and  kind  ? — of  a  govcrnour,  who  guides 
and  governs  all  events,  and  causes  all  the  various 
vicissitudes  and  revolutions  we  behold,  to  work  to- 
gether for  the  highest  and  most  lasting  good  ? 
Which  is  the  most  comfortable  thought,  whether 
we  reofard  ourselves  or  others  ?  which  is  the  roost 
delightful  and  elevating  contemplation  ? 

In  the  past  transactions  of  divine  providence,  how 
interesting  and  delightful  is  it  to  contemplate  the  il- 
lustration of  this  great  and  momentous  truth,  the  uni- 
versal providence  and  government  of  God,  whether 
as  it  respects  families,  individuals,  or  nations  ?  Shall 
I    adduce   as   an   example,   that  cruel    combination, 
when  the   sons  of  Jacob  saw,   but  did  not  feel,    the 
anguish  of  a  brother's  soul,  and   heard,  but  repent- 
ed not,  when  a   brother  sued   to  them  for  mercy  ? 
Need  I  tell  you   what  the  father  felt,  and  thought, 
and   said,  or  describe  to   you    the   sentiments   with 
which  the  son  looked  back  unto  his  father's  house, 
and  forward  to  a  long  captivity  ?    Do  you   need  to 
have   the  sequel  of  tliis  story  told  you  ?    That   un- 
righteous imprisonment,  that  unexpected  exaltation, 
that  tender  interview,  that  astonishing  discovery,  or 
those    pleasing,  approvable   and   salutary   emotions 
they  excited  ?    Do  you  require  to  be  informed,  that 
the  hand  of  God  was  in  all  this  ?   Or,  while  you  see 
his  secret    providence  overruling  the  jealousies  and 
vices,  as  well  as  the  sufferings  of  some,  in  such  man- 
ner as  to  issue  in  the  benefit  of  all ;  accomplishing 
their  settlement  in  that  very  country,  where,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  progress  that   art   and  knowledge 
had  previously  made  there,  they  might  be  instruct- 
ed and  improved ;  a  country  of  general  resort ;  and 


112  Faith   a   desirable 

on  that  account,  as  well  as  on  many  others,  the  most 
proper  theatre  for  the  display  of  that  mighty  hand, 
and  outstretched  arm,  bv  which  the  soveieignty  of 
the  God  of  Israel  should  be  demonstrated  ;  while 
you  see  the  secret  providence  of  God  in  that  very 
event,  of  which  Jacob  said,  that  it  would  bring  down 
his  grey  hairs  with  sorrow  to  t!ie  giave,  providing 
at  once  for  the  preservation  of  that  family,  for  the 
peace  and  policy  of  a  great  empire,  for  the  most 
publick  and  etfectual  rebuke  of  idolatry  and  super- 
stition, and  for  the  most  proper  circumstances  of 
erecting  Israel  into  a  peculiar  people,  who  should 
preserve  and  spread  the  knowledge  of  the  true  God  ; 
■while  vou  see  the  hand  of  God  in  this  event,  at  the 
time  when  it  came  to  pass,  apparently  an  accidental 
thing,  a  mere  domestick  occurrence,  pursumg  such 
various  ends,  promoting  such  important  purposes, 
and  bestowing  such  great  and  extensive  benefits, 
does  it  give  no  pleasure  to  your  hearts  ?  Does  it 
awaken  there  no  pious  admiration,  no  sweet  compo- 
sure in  the  character,  no  sacred  triumph  in  the  go- 
vernment of  God  ? — so  excellent  in  counsel,  so  won- 
derful in  working;  in  all  his  ways  as  gracious  as  he 
is  great,  abundant  in  mercy,  and  glorious  in  holi- 
ness, even  when  clouds  and  darknes?  intercept  from 
us  the  irradiations  of  that  glory  ! — Does  it  excite  in 
you  no  sentiments  of  joyful  sympathy  and  congratu- 
lation towards  the  subjects  of  so  wise,  and  power- 
ful, and  beneficent  a  King  ?  Does  it  not  encourage 
you  to  trust  in  God  ?  Does  it  create  in  you  nothing 
of  that  delightful  tranquillity,  that  results  from  the 
conviction,  that  you  and  your  atfairs  are  in  his  hands, 
and  from  the  devout  resignation  of  all  your  interests 
to  him  ? 

In  all  these  transactions  how   different  were  the 
views  of  Jacob  and  his  children  from  the  views  of 


and   important  principle.  118 

God  ?  Their  judgments  and  sentiments  respecting 
them,  were  formed  only  by  the  things  that  were 
seen  and  present  with  them  :  how  different  an 
aspect  do  they  nov7  assume  to  us,  who  see  their  im- 
portance as  a  part  of  the  great  plan  of  providence  ; 
whose  views,  in  reflecting  on  them,  approach  so 
much  nearer  to  the  views  of  divine  providence  in 
conducting  these  events,  and  who  see  so  much  more, 
than  they  could  discover,  of  the  great  ends  and  ob- 
jects which  they  were  intended  and  calculated  to 
produce  ? — How  pleasant  is  it,  by  the  light  of  Faith, 
to  compare  these  different  views  together,  to  pursue 
the  contemplations  which  that  comparison  suggests, 
and  to  cultivate  and  indulge  the  affections  they  call 
forth  ? 

When  we  carry  forward  our  thoughts  unto  futu- 
rity, we  are  compelled  to  believe,  that  there  is  a 
day,  not  very  distant,  which  shall  be  marked  by 
our  funerals,  when  our  bodies  shall  be  sealed  up  in 
the  grave.  Should  we  anticipate  that  day  with 
greater  pleasure,  if  we  believed  that  the  pains  and 
weaknesses  which  usuallv  lead  thither,  would  be 
our  last  sensations  ?  If  we  believed,  that  when  once 
the  dust  to  which  we  were  going  had  received  us, 
we  should  know  and  be  known  no  moie  for  ever? 
Could  we  think  with  greater  pleasure  of  retiring 
out  of  this  world,  if  we  were  ignorant,  if  we  were 
dubious,  whether  there  were  any  other  scene  of  be- 
ing to  succeed  it  ?  Would  the  vale  of  death  exhibit 
to  us  a  more  pleasing  prospect,  if  it  did  not  open  in- 
to another  and  a  more  important  world  ?  Could  we 
go  with  greater  satisfaction  to  lay  our  pious  paients, 
our  worthy  friends,  or  our  virtuous  children  in  the 
grave,  if  we  thought  that  we  had  then  bid  adieu  to 
them  for  ever  ?  Could  we  stand  with  so  much  sere- 
nity by  the  death-bed  of  the  just,  if  we  dared  not  to 


114  Faith   »  desirable 

encourage  our  imaginations  in  following  them  into 
nobler  life,  and  to  a  better  world,  where  ten  thou- 
sand times  ten  thousand  happj  spirits  aie  rejoicing 
in  the  friendship  of  their  Maker,  and  whose  number 
it  may  be  is  everj  moment  receiving  new  accessions? 
if  we  knew  nothing  of  the  new  Jerusalem,  of  God, 
of  Christ,  and  the  innumerable  company  of  anjrels, 
to  which  all  just  men,  when  they  have  left  this  flesh- 
ly tabernacle,  shall  be  for  ever  united  ? 

No,  my  friends  : — it  is  Faith  to  which  we  owe  the 
most  cordial  consolations,  under  the  heaviest  pres- 
sures of  mortality  :  it  is  Faith  to  which  we  are  in- 
debted for  our  sublimest  pleasures  ;  for  it  is  Faith 
that  discovers  to  us  our  virtuous  predecessors  exalt- 
ed into  all  the  happiness  we  could  desire  for  them. 
It  is  Faith  that  teaches  us  to  look  upon  this  life,  no- 
ble as  is  the  rank  we  hold  in  the  present  world,  and 
great  as  are  the  blessings  we  enjoy  in  it,  as  nothing 
more  than  the  seed-time  of  human  being,  the  school 
of  our  education,  the  childhood  of  our  existence  ; 
and  it  is  Faith  that  enables  us  to  antedate  the  hap- 
piness of  that  better  state,  where  our  labours  shall 
be  recompensed  by  the  noblest  harvest,  and  our 
nature  shall  arrive  at  its  full  maturity  and  perfec- 
tion. 

Are  these  the  pleasures  and  the  consolations  that 
arise  from  Faith  ?  Is  it  not  then  a  most  desirable 
and  important  principle  ?  Regarding  only  the  com- 
forts and  enjoyments  of  this  present  state,  what 
other  source  of  consolation  or  of  pleasure  can  you 
find  that  deserves  to  be  brought  into  comparison 
with  it  ? — The  eternity  to  come  !  what  an  inteiest- 
ing  discovery  !  how  sweet !  how  consolatory  !  how 
full  of  heartfelt  satisfaction  ! — To  find  ourselves 
with  all  the  virtuous  friends  we  have  ever  loved  on 


and   important  principle.  115 

earth,  with  all  the  faithful  servants  of  God  who 
have  gone  before  us,  redeemed  from  the  power  of 
sin  and  death,  refined  from  everv  imperfection,  ex- 
alted above  every  evil,  and  for  ever  settled  in  the 
presence  of  God  !  how  transporting  the  expecta- 
tion ! 

Take  care.  Christian,  that  thy  faith  be  something 
more  than  a  principle  of  pleasure  ;  let  it  so  influence 
the   whole  of  thy  conduct,  that  finally  thou   mayest 
obtain  an  abundant  entrance  into  that  better  world, 
^^      where,  though   Love  shall  for  ever  live,  yet  Faith 
'^  and  Hope,  having  answered  the  important  purposes 

for  which  they  were  given,  shall  give  place  to  cer- 
tainty and  happiness. 


PRAYER. 

Worthy  art  thou,  O  Lord  God  Almighty,  to  re- 
ceive the  profoundest  adorations,  and  the  most  per- 
fect services  of  all  thine  intelligent  creation  ! — 
From  thy  good  pleasure  all  things  derive  their  be- 
ing ;  by  thy  wisdom  they  were  originally  disposed 
in  that  harmonious  order  in  which  we  now  behold 
them  ;  and  it  is  by  thy  decree  that  they  retain  it. 
Thy  providence  it  is  that  ordereth  all  events,  and 
we  have  the  most  comfortable  assurance,  that  all 
things  shall  work  together  for  good  to  those  who 
love  thee  and  obey  thee. 

We  bless  thy  name,  that  by  endowing  us  with 
the  principles  of  reason  and  of  faith,  thou  hast  made 
us  capable  of  knowing  whence  all  our  comforts  flow. 
We  adore  thee  as  the  fountain  of  life  and  blessed- 
ness, we  thank  thee  for  all  the  happiness  we  see 
around  us,  and  for  the  large  share  that  we  ourselves 


116     Faith  a  desirable  and  important  principle. 

have  had  in  the  general  felicity.  But  above  all  we 
praise  and  magnify  thy  name  for  the  glorious  pros- 
pects and  transporting  expectations  which  Faith 
opens  to  our  view.  As  children  of  the  light  and  of 
the  day,  may  our  conversation  he  in  Heaven  ;  may 
our  character  and  conduct  be  always  such  as  be- 
comes the  citizens  of  the  New  Jerusalem,  and  mem- 
bers of  that  glorious  community  that  is  composed  of 
the  innumerable  company  of  Angels,  and  all  the 
spirits  of  the  just  made  perfect,  and  Jesus  the  Medi- 
ator of  the  New  Covenant,  and  God  the  Judge  of 
all  !  As  we  wish,  when  the  days  of  the  years  of  our 
pilgrimage  are  over,  to  be  received  to  dwell  with 
them  where  they  are,  may  we  steadily  adhere  to 
those  principles  of  piety,  and  purity,  and  charity, 
which  constitute  their  happiness  and  glory ;  and 
may  the  hope  of  this  blessed  union,  support,  and 
comfort,  and  rejoice  our  spirits  under  all  the  labours 
and  trials  of  this  present  state. 


DISCOURSE    IV. 

THE    UNREASONABLENESS    AND    FOLLY    OP 
UNDUE    ANXIETY. 


Philippians  iv.  6. 
Be  careful  for  nothing. ' 

We  are  made  with  a  capacity  of  extending  our 
thoughts  into  futurity.  Almost  all  our  occupations 
have  some  respect  to  what  is  yet  to  come,  and 
every  hour  has  some  influence  upon  all  the  hours 
that  come  after  it.  We  know  this  by  experience  ; 
and  such  is  our  propensity  to  look  beyond  the 
present,  that  it  is  impossible  we  should  not  frequent- 
ly be  figuring  to  ourselves,  what  it  may  be  leading 
on.  Hence,  as,  on  the  one  hand,  we  are  apt  to  flat- 
ter ourselves  with  vain  and  groundless  hopes,  which 
in  the  end  must  frequently  betray  us  into  the  bitter- 
est disappointments  ;  so  on  the  other  hand,  in  other 
circumstances,  we  are  apt  to  afflict  ourselves  with 
cares  and  anxieties  no  less  vain  and  groundless,  by 
the  anticipation  of  distresses,  with  which  the  provi- 
dence of  God  perhaps  did  not  mean  to  exercise  us ; 
or,  if  he  did,  never  meant  that  they  should  torment 
us  before  their  time.  It  is  against  such  anxieties 
and  cares,  that  the  apostle  would  guard  us  in  the 
text;  not  against  the  exercise,  but  against  the  abuse 
and  misapplication  of  that  capacity  which  God  has 
implanted  in  us,  of  apprehending  the  future  conse- 
quences of  present  things ;    against  the  abuse   of 

5 


118  The   Unreasonableness   and  Folli/ 

that  propensity    to  which  he  has  deteriiiined  us,  to 
descry  them,  if  it  can  be,  from  afar. 

T^hat  we  should  be  able    to  apprehend  what    will 
be   the   consequences  of  our   conduct,  and   that  we 
should  pay    a    serious   re<>;ard    to  them,  is  necessary 
to  the  taithlul  discharofe  of  our  duty:  if  we  neglect 
to  consider  these   things,    we  shall  be  betrayed  into 
perpetual   offences  against  virtue,  as  well  as  against 
prudence  ;  against  God,  and  against  our  own  souls. 
Hope  and   fear   are  both  of  them    natural  passions, 
implanted   in  our  frame  by    that    Almighty  hand   by 
which  we  are   so  fearfully  and    wonderfully    made  ; 
they  cannot,   and    if  they   could,    they  ought  not,  to 
be  rooted  out.     But  the  objects  of  hope  and  fear  are 
future  things  ;   each  of  them  a  species  of  care  about 
futurities ;     and    while    these    cares    are    restrained 
within  proper  bounds,  we   are  neither  required    nor 
permitted    to  cast  them    off.     These  passions  were 
designed,   the    one   to    begruile    our  labours,   to  ani- 
mate  our  preseverance,  and  to  sweeten  the  work  of 
life;   the  other,   to   put    us  upon   our    guard  against 
approaching  evils,  to  lead  us  to   such    measures,  as, 
according  to  the  views  of  human  prudence,  in  hum- 
ble dependence    upon  the    blessing   and    the    provi- 
dence   of  God,     may    be    most    effectual    for     our 
preservation  or  deliverance.     While  our  cares  about 
futurity  are   directed   solely   to   this   end,   far   from 
being  guilty,  they  are  innocent ;   they  are  more  than 
innocent,  they    are  virtuous.     Such   cares  about  fu- 
turitv,  religion  means  not  to  censure    or    discour- 
age: she  approves  of,  she  commends  all  attentions 
to   the    futurities    of   life     that   may   have    any    in- 
fluence to  promote  our  future  virtue,  or  our  future 
comfort, — if  they  interfere    not   with    the    grateful 
sense,  and   the  just  acknowledgment  of  the  mercies 
that  attend  us  in  the  present  hour,  and  withdraw  us 


of  undue  Anxiety.  119 

not  from  the   duties    which  in   tliat   season   are   in- 
cumbent  on    us, — nor  disqualify  us   for  the  proper 
improvement  of  the    talents   which  at  that   time  are 
passing  through    our   hands.     They   are  the    cares 
that  stretcli  themselves   out    into    futurity,   to   fetch 
multiplied  and    imagifiary    evils   thence   to   increase 
and  aggiavate    the  distresses  that   are  present ;   the 
cares  that  antedate  appioaching  evils,  and  add  them 
to  the  sorrows  of  the   passing  day  ;    the  cares  that, 
in    anticipating    alliictions    which    probably    are    at 
hand,  overlook   the  mercies  with    which  a  gracious 
providence    will    intermingle    them  ;   the   cares  that 
look  upon  afflictions  only  on  the  gloomy  side  ;  which 
love   to   sit  brooding    over  a    melancholy  and    dis- 
tressing scene  ;   which  forget,  that  the   counsels  of 
God,    though   ufisearch  ible,   are  not   unkind;     and 
that  though  clouds  and   darkness    are  round  about 
him,  judgment  and  mercy  are  the  supporters  of  his 
throne  : — Cares,  that  tend  to  hard  thoughts  of  God 
and   Providence,    that  cool    our  admiration    of   the 
divine  perfections,  and  damp  our  love  of  God  ;  cares, 
that  tempt  us,  if  we  durst,  to    wish  that  our  affairs 
were  in   our  own  disposal,  and  that   would  urge  us, 
if   we  could,    to  reverse    the  decrees    of  Heaven; 
cares,    that   generate    impatience    and    ingratitude, 
that  induce  a  gloomy  and   complaining   spirit;  that 
render  us  inattentive  to  our  obligations,  or  disquali- 
fy us   to    discharge    them    in    the    most  acceptable 
manner  : — Cares,  which  are  inconsistent  with  a  live- 
ly  faith  in  the  providence  of  God,  or  a  sincere  con- 
cern to  recommend  ourselves   to  his  blessing,  which 
are  as  anxious,  as  if  he   cared  not  for  us,   as    irre- 
ligious and  indevout,  as  if  all  our  interests  depended 
on    ourselves;  cares   about   this   mortal    body    and 
this   present  world,  which  exclude    the    more    im- 
portant cares  that  relate  to  the  prosperity  of  the  soul 
and  the  interests  of  eternity.     These  are  the  cares 


120  The  Unreasonableness  and  Folly 

that  religion  frowns  upon,  that  the  Apostle  has  for- 
bidden, and  which  our  own  consciences,  the  mo- 
ment we  reflect  upon  them,  must  condemn.  "  Be 
careful  for  nothing,"  says  the  Apostle,  •'  but  in 
every  thing  by  prayer  and  supplication  with  thanks- 
giving, let  your  requests  be  made  known  unto 
God." 

It  is  obvious,  on  the  most  inattentive  considera- 
tion, that  the  cares  which  are  here  forbidden,  are 
such  as  do  not  vent  themselves  in  acts  of  prayer 
and  supplication;  such  as  do  not  lead  us  unto  God 
with  a  becoming  sense  of  our  dependence  on  him, 
and  with  humble  hope  in  his  mercy.  They  are 
such  cares  as  throw  the  mind  into  tumultuous  agi- 
tation, and  impatient  restlessness  :  for  immediately 
after  our  text,  the  Apostle  adds,  "  take  the  advice  I 
here  oifer  you,"  and  "  the  peace  of  God,  which 
passeth  all  understanding,  shall  keep  your  hearts 
and  minds,  through  Christ  Jesus."  Such  cares,  it 
is  evident,  ought  by  all  means  to  be  discouraged 
and  repressed;  and  if  we  have  any  regard  either  to 
our  duty  or  our  interest,  we  shall  keep  our  hearts 
with  all  diligence,  that  they  obtain  no  admission 
there  :  For, 

In  the  first  place,  they  can  do  no  good ;  the 
course  of  providence  will  proceed,  be  we  willing  or 
unwilling;  acquiescent  or  reluctant,  we  must  bear 
the  will  of  God.  Afraid,  or  not  afraid,  the  evils 
that  are  appointed  us,  will  come  upon  us  :  solici- 
tous, or  not  solicitous  to  escape  it,  whatever  gall 
the  hand  of  God  has  mingled  in  our  cup,  must  be 
drank  by  us,  even  to  the  last  drop.  Do  you  see 
any  pressing  evil  drawing  near  you  .^^  ^pp'j  ^^  ^'^^ 
means  that  prudence  recommends,  and  duty  will 
permit,  to   repel,   or    to  escape   it;  apply   them  in 


of  undue   Anxiety.  121 

dependence  upon  God's  pleasure  and  concurrenrc, 
from  whom  all  means  and  instruments  derive  their 
power,  efficacy,  and  success;  and  who  will  not  fail 
to  grant  you  the  deliverance  which  thus  you  seek^ 
if  that  deliverance  be  good  for  you.  And  when 
you  have  done  this,  what  more  is  there  that  you 
would  do?  what  more  is  there  that  you  can  do? 
All  your  anxieties  and  cares  cannot  change  the 
councils  of  God  ;  all  your  reluctance  and  opposition 
can  make  no  alteration  in  his  purposes;  and  if  they 
could  be  changed,  it  is  not  your  disobedience 
that  is  likely  to  make  any  change  in  them  for  the 
better. 

In  the  second  place,  the  cares  of  which  we  speak, 
as  they  can  do  no  good,  so  they  must  do  much 
harm.  They  will  hurt  ourselves.  By  this  means 
we  run  to  meet  the  afflictions  that  await  us,  and  so 
are  in  distress  longer  than  God  meant  we  should 
be.  By  this  means  we  create  to  ourselves  troubles 
which  Divine  Providence  had  not  appointed  for  us, 
and  are  miserable  in  the  anticipation  of  things  that 
shall  never  be.  By  this  means  we  injure  the  health 
of  our  bodies,  and  impair  the  fortitude  of  our  minds; 
we  prepare  ourselves  to  be  utterly  overwhelmed 
by  the  calamities  which  we  cannot  avoid  ;  we  in- 
capacitate ourselves  for  the  duties  of  those  circum- 
stances into  which  God  is  leading  us,  and  the  just 
improvement  of  the  talents  he  is  about  to  put  mto 
our  hands  ;  and  at  the  same  time,  set  ourselves  out 
of  the  reach  of  those  comforts  with  which  he 
meant  to  cheer  and  uphold  us,  when  the  visita- 
tions that  we  dread  shall  come. — But  this  is  not 
all.  It  is  the  testimony  of  universal  experience, 
in  res[)ect  to  all  calamities  in  general,  that  they 
are  ordinarily  more  terrible  in  prospect  than  in 
presence;    more    insupportable    in    the    apprehen- 


122  The    Unreasonableness   and   Folly 

sions  of  imagination,  than  we  find  them  when  in 
reality  we  feel  their  pressure  ;  by  our  cares  and 
anxieties  therefore  about  ills  to  come,  we  suffer, 
not  only  longer  continuance  of  affliction,  but  a 
more  dreadful  evil  than  Providence  had  prepared 
for  us. 

Christian,  what  aileth  thee  ?  Adversity  has  made 
a  visit  to  thy  tabernacle;  affliction  has  cast  her 
clouds  upon  thy  dwelling;  and  sitting  there,  thou 
art  often  ruminatinor  what  will  be  the  end  of  these 
things.  Christian,  take  care  that  no  undutiful 
anxieties  arise  ;  that  nothing  inconsistent  with  thy 
faith  and  hope  find  admission  into  thy  heart.  Is 
not  the  evil  of  the  day,  sufficient  to  the  day  ?  Is  it 
needful  to  bring  other  accessory  evils,  which  might 
perhaps  have  never  come  ?  The  visitations  of  God 
shall  not  overpower  thee;  take  heed  that  thy  own 
imprudence  do  not. — But  thou  art  saying,  perhaps, 
"  How  can  1  bear  the  loss  of  this  comfort  ?  how 
can  I  bear  the  destruction  of  that  hope  .^"  Who  told 
thee  that  that  comfort  should  be  lost  ?  who  told 
thee  that  that  hope  should  be  destroyed  i* — Thy 
comforts  may  be  threatened,  and  yet  not  cut  down  ; 
thy  hopes  may  be  blighted  for  a  season,  and  yet 
not  destroyed  ;  the  delights  of  thine  eyes  may  be 
sick,  and  yet  that  sickness  may  not  be  unto  death  ; 
the  desires  of  thine  heart  may  all  be  brought  to  the 
borders  of  the  grave,  and  yet  all  may  be  remanded 
thence.  Secret  things  belong  unto  the  Lord,  who 
knovveth  what  mercies  are  in  store  for  thee  :  but  if 
it  should  be  as  thy  fears  suggest,  yet  let  not  thy 
virtue  die  before  thy  blessings.  It  will  be  some 
consolation  in  such  trials  if  they  come,  that  thou 
knowest  thou  hast  all  the  security  that  thy  sin- 
cerest  consecration  of  them  unto  God,  and  thy 
steadiest  resolution  to  improve  and  to  form  them  to 


of  undue  Anxiety.  123 

his  glory,  can  procure  thee.  Thou  hast  not  made 
shipwreck  of  Faith  and  a  good  conscience  ;  assure 
thyself,  that  according  to  thy  afflictions  shall  thy 
consolations  be  ;  ail  things  shall  work  together  for 
good  to  those  who  love  God,  and  as  thy  day  is,  so 
shall  be  thy  strength. 

But  even  this  is  not  all ;  anxieties  and  cares  not 
only  antedate  and  aggravate  affliction,  they  will 
hurt  our  consciences  when  we  come  to  look  back 
upon  them,  and  in  the  mean  time  they  will  displease 
our  Maker,  and  bring  down  upon  us,  it  may  be,  the 
very  evils  that  create  our  cares,  from  which  had 
our  hearts  been  more  resigned,  and  our  temper  less 
impatient,  the  arm  of  God  in  due  time  might  have 
delivered  us.  His  mercies,  it  is  probable,  are  dis- 
pensed according  to  our  meetness  to  receive  them  : 
this  indeed,  in  the  present  state  of  discipline,  is  not 
the  only  rule,  but  most  certainly  it  does  enter  into 
those  considerations  on  which  the  counsels  of  the 
divine  mind  are  formed,  and  ouo:ht  therefore  to  be 
remembered  by  us  m  all  the  prayers  that  we  ad- 
dress unto  him,  and  in  all  the  expectations  that  we 
build  upon  his  mercy. — Consider  these  things.  Chris- 
tian ;  in  every  hour  of  sorrow  think  on  them,  re- 
press thy  cares,  and  let  thy  soul  return  unto  its  rest. 

Let  us  remember,  moreover,  that  these  anxie- 
ties and  solicitudes  set  a  bad  example.  It  cannot 
well  happen  but  that  in  our  afflictions,  others  too 
must  be  afflicted,  and  our  dejections  will  deject 
them;  our  diffidence  and  anxiety  may  communicate 
its  contagion  to  their  hearts,  and  we  may  in  some 
measure  have  their  guilt  to  answer  for,  as  well  as 
our  own.  They  will  hurt  our  religion  too;  they 
will  disgrace  our  Christian  profession.  Unbelievers 
may  triumph  in  our  weakness  as  an  argument  of 


124  The  Unreasonableness  and  Folly 

the  impotence  of  our  religion — what  is  a  Christian 
more  than  other  men,  or  what  in  his  Faith  more  ex- 
cellent or  more  useful,  than  our  intidelilj  ? 

So  vain  are  the  cares  that  religion  requires  us  to 
cast  otF,  so  mischievous  the  anxieties  she  condemns  ; 
they  take  away  from  us  our  comforts  while  jet  we 
might  enjoy  them ;  they  hurry  us  into  distresses 
while  yet  we  might  decline  ihem  ;  they  piotrdct  the 
continuance  of  our  afflictions;  they  muluply  the 
number  of  our  sorrows,  and  they  aggravate  the 
degree  of  our  sufferings;  they  make  the  present 
wretched  for  no  other  reason,  but  because  it  is 
possible  the  future  may  be  so  ;  they  hurt  both  our 
bodies  and  our  souls;  they  injure  our  friends  as 
well  as  ourselves  ;  they  disqualify  us  to  receive  the 
comforts  which  Providence  ever  intermingles  with 
its  most  afflictive  dispensations;  and  incapacitate  us 
to  discharge  the  duties,  not  only  of  the  circum- 
stances in  which  we  at  present  are,  but  of  those 
which  will  be  required  of  us  when  they  arrive.  In- 
terfering with  the  discharge  of  duty,  they  are  them- 
selves undutiful  and  irreligious ;  they  add  sin  to 
sorrow. 

But  let  not  the  faithful  Christian  infer  from  hence, 
that  all  painful  forethoughts  are  criminal  anxieties; 
God  distinguishes  between  infirmities  and  sins :  let 
the  Christian  learn  for  his  own  comfort  to  distin- 
guish between  them  too.  If  he  knows,  that  he 
would  not,  if  he  could,  reverse  one  decree  of  God, 
however  painful  and  distressing  to  him;  if  he 
knows,  that  he  would  not,  if  he  could,  accomplish 
his  most  darling  hope  at  the  expense  of  the  divine  ap- 
probation ;  if  he  knows,  that  he  would  not,  if  he 
could,  save  his  most  precious  blessing  by  forfeiting 
his  Maker's  friendship ;  let  him  be  assured  that  God 


of  undue  Anxiety.  125 

remembers  his  frame,  and  experts  not  that  he  should 
put  off  his  nature.  God  will  compassionate  his  tiail- 
ties  ;  he  will  overlook,  the  starting  tear,  and  foroive 
the  involuntary  si<^h.  Let  him  make  it  his  endea- 
vour to  be  "careful  for  nothing,"  and  God  will  ap- 
prove and  bless  him.  Let  him  in  every  thing  by  prayer 
and  supplication,  with  thanksgiving,  make  known  his 
requests  unto  God,  and  he  may  hope,  that,  ""  the 
peace  of  God,  wiiich  passeth  understanding,  shall 
keep  his  heart  and  mind  through  Christ  Jesus." 


PRAYER. 

O  Lord  God  Almijrhtv,  thou  art   the   creator   of 
'-'■'. 
the  ends  of  the  earth,  who  faintest  not,  neither  art 

weary.  Thou  madest  us,  and  not  we  ourselves,  we 
are  thy  people  and  the  sheep  of  thy  pasture,  tUou 
forraedst  our  bodies  out  of  the  dust  of  the  earth, 
thou  breathedst  into  them  the  breath  of  life,  and 
thine  inspiration  hath  given  us  understanding.  This 
life  we  know  is  a  changeable  and  imperfect  scene, 
in  which  all  our  comforts  and  delights  are  exposed 
to  perpetual  danger.  May  no  anxiety  respecting  the 
future  interfere  with  our  thankfulness  for  present 
blessings,  or  at  all  impede  our  alacrity,  diligence,  and 
zeal  in  thy  service.  May  our  hearts  be  fixed,  trust- 
ing in  thee,  who  will  not  suffer  us  to  want  the 
strength  that  is  needful  to  our  day.  Encouraged 
by  all  that  we  see  around  us  of  thine  infinite  good- 
ness,— by  our  own  experience  of  thy  past  care  and 
kindness,  we  would  in  well  doing  conmiit  all  our 
future  interests  unto  thee  ;  we  would  dismiss  all 
anxiety  and  care,  and  would  cast  our  burdens  on 
the  Lord,  resigned  unto  his  will,  and  rejoicing  in 
his  fatherly  protection. 

6 


126  The   UnreasonabUness  and  Folly,  &c. 

In  whatever  state  we  are,  may  we  therewith  be 
content:  May  it  be  our  only  solicitude,  to  discharge, 
in  the  most  acceptable  manner,  all  the  duties  of 
every  circumstance  into  which  thy  providence  may 
lead  us  ;  and  though  the  fig  tree  should  not  blossom, 
nor  fruit  be  in  the  vine,  though  the  labour  of  the 
olive  should  fail,  and  the  fields  should  yield  no  meat; 
though  the  flock  should  be  cut  off  from  the  fold,  and 
there  be  no  herd  in  the  stall ;  though  this  world's 
comforts  should  entirely  fail,  supported  by  the  testi- 
mony of  our  conscience,  and  the  exceeding  great  and 
precious  promises  of  God,  may  we  still  rejoice 
in  the  Lord  for  ever,  and  joy  in  the  God  of  our 
salvation  ! 


DISCOURSE     V. 

ON      THE      DUTY      OF      JOINING      THANKSGIVING 
WITH    PRAYER    IN    TIME    OF    AFFLICTION. 


PART    I. 


Philippians  iv.  6. 

in  every  thing  by  prayer  and  supplication,  with  thanksgiving, 
make  known  your  requests  unto  God. 

Prayer  is  the  natural  language  of  fear  and  trouble; 
while  they  know  no  change,  it  often  happens,  that 
men  fear  not  God — afflictions  send  them  to  hirn, 
Wtien  dangers  and  distresses  have  convinced 
them  of  their  own  weakness,  and  of  the  vanity  of 
all  human  aid,  then  they  cry  unto  the  Lord  to 
give  them  help  from  trouble  ;  they  are  no  longer 
able  to  resist  the  conviction  of  their  absolute  de- 
pendence upon  him  ;  no  longer  willing  to  dispute 
the  propriety  of  addressing  themselves  to  him; 
no  longer  capable  of  stifling  the  propensities  of 
nature,  or  of  restraining  the  homage  that  they  owe  to 
the  great  Maker  and  Ruler  of  the  world.  In  times 
of  trouble,  then,  prayer  to  God  is  as  natural  as  it 
is  right :  But  who  can  sing  the  songs  of  praise 
under  the  clouds  of  sorrow,  and  amidst  the  waters 
of  affliction  ?  What  connexion  is  there  between 
thanksgiving  and   distress  .'*  What  could    move    the 


128         On  the  Duty  of  joining  Thanksgiving 

apostle  to  inculcate  this  duty  upon  those  that  are 
in  trouble  ?  When  we  are  delivered  out  of  trouble, 
thanksgiving  is  undoubtedly  of  especial  obligation  ; 
and  prayer  and  supplication,  while  our  troubles 
last;  but  why  is  it  required  of  us  to  mingle  thanks- 
giving with  our  prayers  in  the  day  of  our  afflic- 
tion ?  A  multitude  of  reasons  will  sugfofest  them- 
selves  to  any  one  who  will  seriously  consider  the 
question ;  give  me  leave,  briefly,  to  mention  a 
few. 

1.  We  may  observe,  in  general,  that  afflictions 
are  not  evils.  Let  me  not  be  mistaken;  1  mean 
not  to  deny  that  nature  shrinks  from  them ;  I 
mean  not  to  insinuate,  that  we  can  by  any  means 
render  ourselves  insensible  to  pain  and  soriow  ; 
I  speak  not  of  the  present  pressure  of  affliction, 
but  with  respect  to  the  future  consequences  of 
present  suffering;  with  respect  to  the  moral  in- 
fluences of  adversity,  with  respect  to  the  fair  and 
the  abundant  fruits  of  holiness  and  happiness 
which  by  faith,  and  patience,  and  dilio-ence,  it 
may  be  made  to  yield.  I  speak  with  regard  to 
the  whole,  both  of  our  condition  and  our  existence; 
and  when  it  is  asserted  tliat  afflictions  are  not 
evils,  it  is  meant,  that  without  them  we  should 
have  less  comfort  in  this  present  scene  of  things; 
or,  lewer  advantages  in  our  power  with  respect 
to  that  eternal  state  which  is  soon  to  succeed  it : 
they  do,  or  at  least,  if  it  is  not  our  own  fault,  they 
may,  advance  our  interests  upon  the  whole,  and 
therefore  are  not  upon  the  whole,  evils.  There 
is  no  evil  being  that  has  any  thing  to  do  in  the  go- 
vernment of  the  world ;  it  is  ruled  by  the  God 
of  love.  Our  sharpest  pains,  our  severest  anguish, 
are  not  the  cruelties  of  a  malignant  principle, 
they  aie  not  the  barbarous  sport  of  an  insensible 
and  wanton  mind.     They  are  not   blown  to  us   by 


with  Prayer  in  the  Time  of  Affliction.         129 

the  wind  of  chance,  nor   borne    down   upon  us  by 
the    torrent    of    an     iinintelhgent     and     irresistible 
destiny  :  they    are    the  gracious  visitations   of    our 
heavenly    Father,    without  whom,  not    a    sparrow 
falleth  to  the  ground,  nor   a  hair  from  the   human 
head.     We    call    them     evils,    and    yet  they    come 
from    the    pure    and    incorruptible  fountain    of    all 
good ;    and    it   is   with   the    kindest    intention    that 
they  are   sent  to    us.     Did  we    see  with  the  eyes  of 
God,  we  should  call    them    all   blessings ;   for   they 
are  all  alike    capable  of  being  converted   by  us   to 
our  interest,  and  all   alike   intended  to  do   us  good. 
If   any    confidence    can    be   placed    in    the   clearest 
deductions  of    reason,  this    is    an   indubitable   con- 
sequence of    the  absolute    independence    and    infi- 
nite   perfection   of    God.     The   word  of  God   is  as 
clear  and    full    as  we  could   wish  it,   on  a  point  of 
such  mighty   moment   to  our   tranquillity  and    com- 
fort.     How  oiten    are    we    told    there,   that  nothing 
happens   to   us   but  by  his  appointment — that  there 
is  no   evil — nothing  that   we   blindly  call   so,   but  of 
his   creating;    that    he    has  no  pleasure,  either   in 
the  destruction,  or   the  distresses  of  his  creatures  ; 
that  he  does  not  willingly  afflict  or   grieve    the  chil- 
dren of  men ;    that    he    chastens    them,  not    for  his 
own     pleasure,     but     for    their     profit,     that    they 
may    be  made     partakers    of    his    holiness  ?     How 
often  are  we    taught  that    the    sufferings  of  life   are 
not     the     tokens  of    divine    wrath,    but    the     testi- 
monies of  God's    paternal    attention    and    compas- 
sion ?  That  the  trials  of  adversity,  the   various  ca- 
lamities with   which  we   are  visited,  are   calculated 
to  promote  our   virtue,  to  improve   our   comfort,   to 
secure   our    best   interest,  and   to   enlarge  our  hea- 
venly inheritance. — The  light  affliction  of  this  tran- 
sitory world,  which  is   but   for  a   moment,  worketh 
out  for  us  a  tar  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight 
of  glory. 


130  On  the  Duty  of  joining  Thansgiving 

If  such  then  be  the  nature  of  afflictions ;  if  such 
be  the  principle  from  which  they  come;  if  such  be 
their  genuine  tendency,  and  such  the  advantages 
they  put  into  our  hands,  have  we  no  reason  to  give 
thanks  for  them?  Difficult  it  may  be,  but  unrea- 
sonable it  is  not. 

No  man  can  be  at  a  loss  to  say,  which  hath  the 
greater  obligation  to  his  father,  the  child  that  is 
sutTered,  without  disciphne  or  culture,  to  grow  up 
in  ignorance  and  folly,  the  slave  of  humour,  appe- 
tite, and  passion  ;  or,  the  child  whose  prejudices  are 
carefully  corrected,  whose  follies  are  properly  re- 
buked, whose  faults  are  mercifully  and  calmly,  yet 
steadily  and  uniformly  chastised,  and  who  is  instruct- 
ed, or  assisted  lo  instruct  himself,  in  whatever  is  of 
most  importance  to  the  interests  of  his  future  life  ; 
and  it  is  not  to  be  doubted,  that  when  they  have 
each  attained  to  maturity  of  judgment,  and  acquir- 
ed experience  in  human  things,  the  one  will  lament 
the  blind  indulgence  that  permitted  him  without  in- 
terruption to  enjoy  himself  according  to  his  own 
will,  and  the  other  will  rejoice  in  the  hardships  to 
which  he  was  inured,  and  will  estimate  even  the  se- 
verities that  excited  no  gratitude  at  the  time,  among 
the  truest  arguments  of  parental  tenderness  and 
love. — This  whole  life,  in  respect  to  the  whole  of 
our  existence,  is  a  scene  of  discipline  and  education  ; 
have  we  not  reasofi  to  rejoice  in  the  superintendence 
of  our  heavenly  Father?  If  we  were  left  without 
the  instructions  and  admonitions,  without  the  cor- 
rectives and  corroborations  of  adversity,  then  would 
he  not  deal  with  us  as  sons. 

But,  to  put  the  discipline  of  this  life  as  it  affects 
the  interests  of  the  next,  out  of  the  account ;  to 
consider    only    the  enjoyment   of   our  present  be- 


with  Prayer  in  Time  of  Affliction.  131 

ing ;  it  might  bear  a  doubt,  whether  such  sufferings 
as  ordinarily  fall  to  the  lot  of  men,  together  with 
the  supports,  the  consolations,  the  deliverances  that 
are  ordinarily  granted  them,  do  not  make,  or  put 
it  in  our  power  to  make,  even  this  present  state  a 
more  desirable  and  more  comfortable  scene,  than  if 
every  species  of  adversity  were  absolutely  excluded 
from  it.  There  is  a  joy  in  deliverance,  that  exists 
not  in  uninterrupted  vsecurity  :  there  is  a  delight  in 
the  restoration  of  a  comfort,  which  for  a  time  has 
been  either  totally  or  in  part  suspended,  that  is  not 
to  be  found  in  the  continued  possession  of  it.  There 
are  a  multitude  of  soothing  satisfactions  that  are  pe- 
culiar to  the  hour  of  trouble.  While  we  reflect  on 
the  blessings  that  remain,  they  are  the  more  en- 
deared to  us  ;  when  we  experience  the  efficacy  of 
those  supports  with  which  God  has  furnished  us,  how 
sweet  are  our  reflections  on  the  tenderness  of  our 
heavenly  Father,  who  never  leaves  us,  nor  forsakes 
us;  who  foriretteth  not  how  frail  we  are;  and  who, 
in  the  midst  of  judgment,  remembers  mercy  ! 

What  joy  is  it  to  the  Christian,  (and  all  men  may 
attain  the  Christian  temper)  what  joy  is  it  to  reflect 
that  his  trials  have  not  overcome  his  faith,  nor  ex- 
tinguished his  devotion,  nor  diminished  his  alacrity 
in  the  service  of  his  Maker  ?  What  joy  is  it  that 
he  bears,  or  strives  to  bear,  his  burdens,  with  a  de- 
cent composure,  and  that  he  improves,  or  labours  to 
improve  them  with  all  fidelity  and  diligence  ?  Into 
what  tenderness  does  not  sorrow  melt  the  heart  of 
friendship  ?  What  unusual  and  delightful  accep- 
tableness  does  it  not  impart  to  all  its  services  ? 
W^hat  stability  and  firmness  does  it  not  for  ever  add 
unto  the  union  } 

These  things,  if  we  attend  to  them,  may  sufiice 
to  satisfy  us,  that  with   respect  even   to  the  enjoy- 


132         On  the  Duty  of  joining   Thanksgiving 

ment  of  the  present  life,  it  is  no  undesirable  thing 
that  we  should  sometimes  receive  the  visits  of  ad- 
versity. It  is  not  the  child  that  is  indulged  in  all 
his  wishes,  that  best  enjojs  even  the  season  of  his 
tutelage  and  childhood;  neither  is  it  the  man  who 
never  knows  the  discipline  of  adversity,  that  best 
enjoys  this  scene  of  human  education.  The  salu- 
tary severities  that  occasionally  restrain  the  per- 
verseness  of  the  child,  or  that  correct  the  pieju- 
dices,  compose  the  dissipation  and  improve  the  sen- 
sibility of  the  man,  contribute  each  in  its  place  to 
enlarge  their  capacity  of  happiness. — What  impro- 
priety then  is  there  in  the  Apostle's  counsel  ?  To 
our  prayers  to  God  in  the  day  of  trouble  and  dan- 
ger, why  should  we  not  add  our  thanksgivings.'^ 

I  will  not  ask  the  sinner  if  he  has  no  cause  to  be 
thankful  for  the  afflictions  that  recall  him  from  his 
wanderings,  and  cure  him  of  his  levity,  and  bring 
him  back  to  God.*  Let  me  ask  the  Christian,  who 
may  perhaps  think  that  he  stands  less  in  need  of 
such  distasteful  dispensations,  if  there  be  no  cause 
for  thankfulness  in  circumstances,  that  may  enliven 
his  conviction  of  his  own  weakness  and  insufficiency, 
and  of  his  absolute  dependence  upon  God?  In  cir- 
cumstances that  most  feelingly  demonstrate  to  him 
the   importance  of  the  divine  favour,  and  the  vanity 

*  The  following  lines  were  written  by  the  late  eminently  pious 
Dr.  Doddridge,  on  the  tombstone  oC  a  young  man,  who  died  in  con- 
sequence of  a  broken  leg,  and  whose  life,  previous  to  that  accident, 
had  been  very  intemperate.  They  are  inserted  by  the  Fditor,  not 
for  the  beauty  of  the  poetry,  but  as  the  record  of  an  interesting  fact, 
and  for  the  justness  of  the  sentiment. 

In  life's  gay  prime  a  thousanrl  joy?  [  sought, 

But  heaven  and  an  immortal  soul  forgot  ; 

In  riper  years.   Affliction's  smarting  rod, 

And  pains  and  wounds,  taught  me  to  know  my  God  ; 

1  bless'd  the  change  wiili  my  expiring   breath. 

And  life  ascrib'd  to  that  which  wrought  my  death. 


with  Prayer  in  Time  of  Affliction.  133 

of  all  human  things?  In  circumstances  that  most 
powerfullj  incline  hira  to  serious  thought  and  sin- 
cere devotion  ;  that  melt  his  heart  into  all  the  sweet 
and  amiable  sympathies  of  Christian  charity  and 
love;  that  clothe  him  more  gracefully  than  ever,  in 
humility  ;  that  engage  him  in  the  most  accurate  ex- 
amination of  his  heart  and  conduct,  and  that  quick- 
en the  sentiments  of  penitence,  and  strengthen  his 
resolutions  of  obedience? — In  such  circumstances, 
Christian,  is  there  nothing  for  which  thou  shouldst 
give  thanks? — These  advantages,  affliction  offers 
thee;  these  uses  thou  mayest  make  of  it;  whilst 
thou  prayest  to  God,  then,  that  he  would  give  thee 
grace  so  to  improve  them,  shouldst  thou  not  give 
thanks,  tliat  thou  hast  them  in  thy  hands  so  to  be 
improved  ? 

2.  In  our  afflictions  it  becomes  us  to  unite  thanks- 
givings with  our  prayers,  for  another  reason  also, 
viz.  that  our  sutferinjjs  are  not  so  o-reat  as  our  de- 
merit. — Sinner,  perhaps  thou  art  afflicted;  trouble 
after  trouble  hath  laid  hold  upon  thee  ;  deep  and 
various  are  thy  distresses,  and  thou  art  ready  to  cry 
out,  "  come  and  see,  was  ever  sorrow  like  unto  my 
sorrow  ?"  From  my  heart  I  pity  thee,  and  I  pray 
God  that  in  the  end  it  may  prove  good  for  thee  that 
thou  art  so  afflicted.  I  am  ready  to  admit  all  that 
thou  canst  think  of  the  weight  of  what  God  hath 
laid  upon  thee.  Yet  consider  for  a  moment,  and 
thou  must  admit,  that  notwithstanding  all,  thou  hast 
reason  to  rejoice  and  to  give  thanks. — Thou  art 
a  li Ding  man,  and  for  the  living  there  is  hope:  the 
day  of  grace  is  not  over,  the  gates  of  mercy  are 
not  shut — thy  eternal  interests  are  not  yet  desperate. 
Surely  it  is  a  privilege  to  be  owned  with  the  warm- 
est gratitude,  that  thou  art  yet  in  a  state  of  disci- 
pline and  hope. — How  dreadful  had  been  thy  situa- 

7 


134  On  the  Duly  of  joining   Thanksgiving 

tion,  if  justice  had  already  summoned  tliee  to  her 
awful  tribunal,  and  had  pronounced  the  irrevocable 
doom  ? 

It  is  no  unworthy  or  unuscful  exercise  of  our 
understanding,  to  contemplate  the  various  charac- 
ters and  cirv  iimstances  of  mankind,  and  to  consider  the 
intluence,  which  in  fact  they  have,  oi- in  reason  ought 
to  have  upon  each  other.  But  after  all,  our  most 
urgent  business  is  at  home.  Christians,  what  think 
ye  of  yourselves  ?  what  think  ye  of  your  own  suf- 
fering.'^ what  have  you  thought,  what  should  ye 
think,  of  your  afflictions  ?  You  have  not,  1  would 
hope,  so  unjust  an  idea  of  the  present  state,  so  over- 
weening an  idea  of  your  own  merit,  as  to  conceive, 
that  the  niost  perfect  sincerity  in  vour  obedience  to 
the  law  of  God,  your  most  diligent  and  strenuous  en- 
deavours to  fulhl  all  righteousness,  either  will,  or 
ought  to  exempt  you  fiom  afflictions.  You  piav  to 
be  delivered,  but  jou  pray  more  earnestly  to  be 
supported,  and  to  be  led  to  the  just  improvement 
of  them  ;  and  with  these  your  humble  supplications, 
you  otfer  up  thanksgivings,  not  less  sincere  and 
cordial,  that  in  the  midst  of  judgment  God  remem- 
bers mercy. — What,  you  say,  had  been  my  con- 
dition, if  it  had  been  deternjined  by  my  merit.'' 
If  for  every  instance  in  which  I  had  forgotten  God, 
he  had  forgotten  me  and  my  concerns;  if  ior  every 
duty  I  had  neglected,  lie  had  subti  acted  1  ut  cn(  fiom 
my  comforts  and  enjoyments; — if,  lor  every  devia- 
tion I  have  made  from  the  way  of  his  command- 
ments, his  chastisements  had  come  upon  me  ;  my 
hopes  had  been  exlingnislied ;  my  comforts  had 
been  exhausted,  and  my  miseries  had  been  already 
insuppoitable.  How  precious  are  his  thoughts  unto 
me!  how  o;reat  is  the  sum  of  them!  It  is  true,  I 
have  been  happier ;  but  while  I  can  hope  in  God 


with   Praijer  in   Time  of  Affliction.  135 

that  he  will  extend  his  compassion  to  me,  and  can 
rejoice  in  his  benignity  that  he  lias  not  chastened 
me  according  to  my  demerit,  but  according  to  his 
own  goodness,  I  am  not  unhappy  still.  Thy  mer- 
cy, O  my  God,  appears  in  every  dispensation  of 
thy  providence.  The  prosperities  thou  bestowest 
on  me  demand  my  gratitude,  for  I  am  not  worthy 
of  them  ;  I  am  not  even  worthy  to  be  chastened 
witli  so  much  tenderness  and  pity. 

Such,  in  regard  to  the  dispensations  of  divine 
Providence,  are  the  sentiments  of  every  heart  that 
is  truly  Christian. — In  this  manner  does  the  Chris- 
tian own  his  obligation  in  all  things   to  give  thanks. 


PRAYER. 

O  Lord  God  Almighty,  thou  art  greatly  to  be 
feared,  and  to  be  had  in  reverence  of  all  them  that 
come  nigh  unto  thee,  for  thou  seest  not  as  man 
seeth,  neither  art  thy  ways  like  our  ways.  Into  this 
world  we  know  we  are  sent  as  into  a  school  of  dis- 
cipline and  education ;  notwithstanding  therefore 
all  the  difficulties  and  trials  we  may  meet  with, 
some  of  whicii  may  try  our  faith  and  patience  to  the 
uttermost,  may  this  be  at  all  times  our  support  and 
consolation,  that  the  Lord  God  omnipotent  reign- 
eth;  that  he  will  never  leave  us  if  we  forsake  not 
him  ;  that  our  strength  shall  be  proportioned  to 
our  day  ;  that  if  we  love  him,  all  things  shall  work 
together  for  our  good  according  to  his  promise  ; 
and  that  if  we  obey  him,  we  shall  finally,  and  for 
oil  'ht  we  know  speedily  be  received  into  that  better 
world,  the  great  object  of  our  wishes  and  our  hopes, 
where  we  shall  obtain  the  reward  of  our  faith  and 
patience,  in  pure,  unspeakable,  and  unchangeable 
felicity. 


136      On  the  Duty  of  joining    Thanksgivings  &c. 

Seeing  we  have  tills  transporting  expectation  in 
us,  may  we  hold  out  unto  the  end.  Enable  us,  O 
God,  to  occupy  all  our  talents  \vith  fidelity  and  dili- 
gence ;  to  sustain  all  our  trials  with  fortitude  and 
constancy,  till  we  see  him,  whom  having  not  seen 
we  love,  and  hear  that  blessed  sentence — well  done 
good  and  faithful  servants,  enter  ye  into  the  joy  of 
your  Lord. 


DISCOURSE    VI. 

ON    THE  DUTY  OF  JOINING  THANKSGIVING   WITH 
PRAYER    IN    TIME    OF    AFFLICTION. 


PART   II. 


I 


Phtlippians  iv.  6. 

In  every  thing  by  prayer  and  supplication,  with  thanksgiving,   make 
known  your  requests  unto  God. 

In  the  hour  of  trouble  it  becomes  us  to  unite 
thanksgiving  with  our  prayers,  because,  let  our 
condition  be  what  it  may,  it  is  not  so  afflictive  as  it 
might  have   been. 

In  every  sorrow  that  you  have  ever  yet  expe- 
rienced, it  would  be  very  easy  for  you  to  imagine 
what  would  have  greatly  aggravated  and  embit- 
tered it.  There  were  still  some  powers  of  your 
nature,  there  were  still  some  circumstances  of  your 
situation,  which  the  arrows  of  adversity  had  not 
reached. — If  you  were  poor,  perhaps  you  were  in 
health;  if  you  were  sick,  perhaps  you  did  not  want 
what  might  procure  you  wherewith  to  mitigate  and 
remove  your  sicknesses.  If  your  bodies  we!e  dis- 
eased, your  minds  weie  not  disordered,  you  were 
still  possessed  of  your  rational  and  moral  powers; 
and  though  your  bodily  diseases  were    many,  you 


138         On  the'  Duty  of  joining    Thanksgiving 

were  not  exercised  with  all  the  pains  and  sicknesses 
that  mii^ht  have  been  combined  together;  it  is 
probable  you  might  have  recollected  among  your 
friends,  perhaps  you  might  have  found  within  your 
neighbourhood,  those  that  were  at  that  very  time 
proved  with  more.  If  your  friends  were  in  trouble, 
yet  it  was  only  some,  not  all  of  them  ;  you  per- 
haps were  not  afflicted,  but  in  their  affliction  :  if 
you  were  in  trouble,  they  perhaps  were  not  afflicted 
but  in  yours.  You  were  not  incapacitated  for  per- 
forming the  offices  of  fiiendship  for  them,  nor 
they  withheld  from  rendering  the  like  services  to 
you. 

If  your  troubles  were  of  such  a  nature  as  to  ad- 
mit of  human  consolation  and  relief,  it  is  probable 
that  they  betel  you  in  a  scene,  and  at  a  time,  when 
such  aids  and  comforts  might  be  obtained  :  If,  of 
such  a  nature  they  were  not,  and  the  whole  burden 
raust  have  been  borne  by  yourself  alone,  it  is  very 
probable  you  can  call  to  remembrance  those  sea- 
sons and  conjunctures  of  your  life,  those  states  of 
mind,  ot^  body,  or  of  circumstances  which  formerly 
you  have  experienced,  in  which  it  was  possible 
you  might  have  been  placed  again,  wherein  the 
troubles  that  oppressed  you  would  have  borne 
upon  you  much  more  heavily,  and  have  affected 
you  with  much  keener  and  more  insupportable 
distress. 

If  your  anguish  has  been  very  sharp,  it  has  not 
been  very  tedious ;  if  your  sorrow  has  been  of 
some  continuance,  it  has  not  been  without  inter- 
vals of  comfort  and  enjoyment,  and  perhaps  all 
alono- it  has  been  very  tolerable.  If  the  afflictions 
which  you  have  feared  have  overtaken  you,  yet 
you    feared    them    perhaps    sometime    before    you 


with  Prayer  in  Time  of  Affliction.  13^ 

telt  them,  and  when  they  came,  though  you 
found  them  very  painful,  }et  not  so  distressing  as 
you  feared.  They  might  have  eD)bittered  hfe 
much  sooner,  they  might  have  embittered  it  much 
more. 

You  are  injured  in  your  properly,  you  feel  it 
sensibly,  those  who  are  dependent  on  you  feel  it ; 
but  say,  is  tliere  nothing  still  remaining  to  you,  of 
which  you  might  be  unjustly  deprived  ? — You  are 
injured  in  your  honour,  misrepresented,  calumniat- 
ed, and  traduced  by  some  means  or  other;  by 
unjust  suspicion,  by  uncandid  interpretation,  by 
malignant  slander,  you  have  suffered  in  the  esteem 
of  men  ;  in  the  friendship  of  those  who  were  n^ost 
tenderly  affected  towards  you,  and  thus,  much 
of  the  comfort  of  your  life  has  been  destroyed;  it 
may  be  so,  but  would  it  not  have  been  a  severer 
trial,  if  you  had  deserved  such  calumnies  ?  Would 
it  not  have  pained  you  more  to  have  been  conscious 
that  such  detractions,  though  unkind,  were  not  un- 
just ?  Have  you  been  de2;raded  as  low  as  possible 
in  the  opinion  of  mankind  ?  Have  the  enemies  of 
your  repose  done  you  all  the  mischief  they  might 
have  done. 

By  the  instability  of  human  things,  by  the 
changeableness  of  human  disposition,  or  by  the 
stroke  of  death  perhaps,  you  have  lost  a  relative 
or  a  friend  ;  not  one  perhaps,  but  more  ;  they  are 
no  longer  to  be  found  in  this  world;  or,  if  they 
be,  through  the  vicissitudes  to  which  this  world  is 
subject,  some,  whom  you  counted  among  its  most 
valuable  blessings,  are  to  you  as  if  they  were  not. 
It  may  be  so  ;  but  are  there  none  that  might  be 
addfd  to  the  number?  It  is  true  these  are  the 
richest  treasures  of  this  present  state,  but  have  all 


140        On  the  Duty  of  joining   Thanksgiving 

your  riches  made  themselves  wings  and  fled  away  t 
Has  there  been  no  succession  in  the  circle  of 
your  connexions?  Is  there  no  reason  to  expect 
there  may  be?  Are  there  none  remaining  to  you 
oi"  all  that  have  long  occupied  your  most  pleasing 
cares,  tendered  you  the  most  substantial  services, 
and  furnished  you  with  your  most  delightful  enter- 
tainment ?  There  are  very  few,  even  of  those  who 
have  reached  the  extremes!  date  of  human  life,  that 
can  make  a  complaint  like  this;  very  few  on  v^hose 
connexions  time  and  chance  have  made  such  dread- 
ful depredations,  that  they  have  none  in  whom  they 
can  trust  to  sweeten  what  remains  of  life,  and  to 
lay  them  in  a  descent  grave  ;  and  while  this  is  not 
our  condition,  it  is  not  so  deplorable  as  it  might 
have  been. 

In  every  scene  of  affliction,  in  every  hour  of 
trouble,  there  is  something  for  which  we  may, 
something  for  which,  if  we  would  be  faithful  to  our 
duty,  we  must  give  thanks. — My  friends,  there  is 
no  condition  of  human  life  that  we  ever  have  ex- 
perienced, or  ever  shall,  from  which  some  consola- 
tions, still  left  us,  might  not  have  been  withdrawn  ; 
to  which  some  sorrow  mio;ht  not  have  been  added  ; 
in  which  some  circumstances  might  not  have  been 
altered  for  the  worse. 

In  the  second  place,  it  becomes  us,  in  our  afflic- 
tions, to  unite  thanksgiving  with  our  supplication, 
because  our  afflictions,  in  this  life,  never  are  so  great, 
but  that  they  admit  of  consolation. 

Diseases  both  of  body  and  mind,  are  in  very  many 
instances  capable  of  being  cured  by  proper  applica- 
tions ;  and  even  in  those  instances  where  they  prove 
incurable,  the  anguish  of  them,  ordinarily  at  least,  is 


t 


with  Prayer  in  Time  of  Affliction.  141 

capable  of  being  mitigated  ;  and  such  is  the  benig- 
nit_y  ot  God,  thai  both  in  the  material  and  spiritual 
worlds  he  hath  furnished  us  with  a  variety  of  reme- 
dies and  lenitives  for  the  various  pains  and  distress- 
es to  which  we  are  liable.  It  is  a  law  of  our  nature 
that  reflects  the  greatest  honour  on  the  Author  of  it, 
and  calls  upon  us  for  perpetual  gratitude,  that  in 
many  cases,  the  longer  we  suffer,  the  lighter  our 
sufferings  become.  If  our  pleasures  please  us  less 
when  they  are  become  habitual,  this  is  abundantly 
made  up  to  us  in  the  counterpart  of  the  appointment 
— that  our  distresses  distress  us  less,  as  we  become 
inured  to  them. 

Prayer  is  another  of  the  comforts  of  which  we 
may  avail  ourselves  in  our  afflictions  ;  it  is  a  comfort 
which  God  extends  to  us,  and  which  he  means,  which 
he  expects,  which  he  requires  us  to  take.  To  our 
dutiful  endeavours  to  sustain  our  sorrows,  we  may 
add  our  pious  supplications  for  support,  and  comfojt, 
and  relief;  and  having  done  this,  we  cannot,  in  any 
circumstances,  however  distressing:,  be  devoid  of 
hope.  Hope  is  the  great  cordial  of  human  life.  It 
must  mingle  with  our  most  prosperous  circumstan- 
ces, or  the  enjoyment  of  them  will  be  but  very  dull, 
and  languid,  and  imperfect:  Without  hope,  the  ad- 
versities of  life,  even  in  the  lightest  instances,  would 
sit  heavily  on  our  hearts;  and  on  the  contrary,  our 
most  grievous  sufferings  yield  in  some  measure  to 
its  cheering  influences.  In  our  worst  condition,  we 
are  not  without  hope  that  the  day  is  coming  when 
it  may  be  better  with  us  ;  our  pains  may  cease,  our 
fears  may  vanish  ;  our  difficulties  ma\find  a  period 
at  last;  by  and  by  our  tears  may  be  dried  up,  and 
our  wounded  hearts  be  healed. — If  no  other  hope 
remain  to  us,  yet  we  know'that  ere  long  we  shall 
arrive  at  those  peaceful  mansions,  where  the  weary 
.    8 


142  On  the  Duty  of  joining  Thanksgiving 

are  at  rest.  Our  troubles  will  at  least  cease  there. 
Death  will  compose  our  fears  and  take  away  our 
pains.  We  shall  groan  no  more  in  that  land  of  si- 
lence. When  that  placid  slumber  steals  upon  us, 
every  grief  will  be  forgotten.  Though  no  bright 
interval  should  gild  the  remainder  of  the  day,  when 
once  the  sun  of  life  is  set,  the  night  we  know  will  be 
still  and  easy  ;  we  shall  rest  then,  if  not  before  ; 
and  if  our  state  be  such,  that  we  find  no  inter- 
mission of  our  anguish,  that  night  is  probably  not 
far  off. 

These  hopes,  Christians,  nothing  can  take  from 
us :  we  have  no  pains  that  are  immortal.  The 
storms  of  life  must  drive  us  to  the  haven  whither  we 
are  steering.  Let  us  keep  our  good  character,  and  we 
cannot  miss  our  port.  When  sorrows  press  upon  us, 
it  is  a  sweet  rejection,  a  thought  that  soothes  the 
an:^uish  of  our  hearts,  that  by  and  by  we  shall  shut 
our  eyes  on  all  that  troubles  us,  and  lay  ourselves 
down,  to  be  disturbed  no  more, — But  how  much 
sweeter,  how  much  more  soothing  is  the  thought, 
of  what  mighty  power.  Christians,  have  you  not 
often  found  it  to  cheer  you  in  a  dark  and  painful 
hour,  that  when  we  are  retired  from  this  world's 
troubles,  we  shall  be  received  to  that  where  no 
tribulations  come  ;  to  pure,  and  endless,  and  in- 
conceivable felicity  ?  This  hope  is  indeed  an  anchor 
of  the  soul,  sure  and  steadfast ;  the  consolation  it 
contains  is  unspeakable.  The  vale  of  death  is  peace- 
ful, the  world  to  which  it  leads,  is  glorious  and  hap- 
py— Happy  man  whose  inheritance  is  there  !  Why 
will  not  all  men  be  so  happy  ?  Happy  he,  whose 
hope  can  anticipate  his  arrival  there  !  He  is  well 
prepared  for  all  the  calamities  of  life  ;  he  can  never 
want  a  cordial  to  support  him  under  them;  he  has 
reason,  and  will   ordinarily  have  the  disposition  too, 


with  Prayer  in   Time  of  Affliction.  143 

to  rejoice  evermore.  He  cannot  guard  himself,  and 
he  knows  that  God  neither  should  nor  will  defend 
him  from  the  common  calamities  of  life,  but  whatever 
may  happen,  nothi[)g  can  come  without  his  own 
consent,  that  shall  destroy  his  eternal  interests. 
These  consolations,  some  of  them  we  must  have,  all 
of  them  we  ?7iay  have,  in  every  hour  of  trouble,  and 
through  every  hour  of  life.  Say,  then,  was  the 
Apostle  wrong?  was  he  unacquainted  with  the  con- 
dition, was  he  inattentive  to  the  circumstances  of 
mankind.^  is  the  advice  impracticable,  is  the  com- 
mand unreasonable,  that  in  our  afflictions  we  should 
give  thanks?  Much  matter  for  thanksgiving  we  can 
never  fail  to  have.  If  then  we  offer  not  the  sacrifice 
of  gratitude  together  with  our  prayers  to  heaven, 
we  withhold  from  God  the  glory  due  unto  his  name, 
and  we  may  do  an  injuiy  to  our  own  souls;  for  I 
must  just  mention  in  the  third   place, 

That  by  cultivating  and  cherishing  that  tem- 
per of  mind,  which  will  lead  us  to  intermin- 
gle thanksgivings  with  our  prayers,  we  shall  re- 
commend ourselves  to  the  divine  favour,  in  re- 
spect to  the  wants,  and  pains,  and  fears  that  are 
present  with  us. 

Will  God  look  with  an  equally  propitious  eye, 
on  the  thankful  and  on  the  unthankful  ?  To  forget 
the  mercies  that  we  have,  is  this  the  way  to  obtain 
the  mercies  that  we  want  ?  Shall  new  mercies  be 
bestowed  upon  that  man,  who  shows  in  his  present 
conduct  that  he  will  forget  them  as  soon  as  new 
troubles  shall  arise?  Shall  new  mercies  be  withheld, 
by  the  Father  of  mercies,  fiom  that  man  whose  pre- 
sent conduct  gives  the  best  security,  that  whatever 
is  bestowed  upon  him,  uneffaced  by  time  or  sorrow, 
shall  be  had  in  everlasting  remembrance  ?     Which 


144         On  the  Duty  of  jninhu^  Thanksgiving 

manifests  the  best  disposition  to  improve  the  bless- 
ing that  he  asks ;  on  which  coiiid  you  rely  most 
confidently,  that  he  would  employ  your  bounty  in  a 
manner  honourable  to  himself  and  acceptable  to 
you,  the  man  who  forgets  what  you  have  already 
done  for  him,  or  he,  who,  with  true  humility  and 
gratitude,  acknowledges  your  former  kindnesses, 
whilst  he  is  solicitinof  vour  future  favours? — V  ou 
cannot  for  a  moment  hesitate  how  the  question 
should  be  answered.  Hear  then  the  Apostle's 
counsel,  be  grateful  for  the  past,  if  you  would  be 
happy  in  the  future,  and  mingle  thanksgiving  with 
your  prayers,  if  ye  mean  that  your  prayers  should 
be  regarded. 

In  the  fourth  place.— Our  prayers  and  supplica- 
tions in  the  day  of  our  adversity,  ought  to  be  ac- 
companied with  thanks2;iving,  because  present 
troubles  do  not  annihilate  tormer  mercies. 

If  you  have  lost  a  blessing,  you  have  had  one; 
it  may  be,  that  you  have  had  it  long:  it  may  be, 
that  the  time  you  have  been  happy  in  the  possession 
of  it,  is  much  longer  than  the  time  for  which  you 
will  be  afflicted  by  its  loss.  It  is  now  taken  from  you, 
but  the  value  of  the  blessing  is  not  hereby  dimin- 
ished ;  the  period  during  which  you  were  indulged 
by'  it,  is  not  hereby  shortened  ;  the  enjoyment  was 
as  real  as  the  loss. 

Has  sickness  seized  you  ?  there  is  room  for 
thankfulness  that  you  know  the  ditference  between 
a  state  of  sickness  and  a  state  of  health. — Have 
you  lost  a  friend  ?  You  had  a  friend  to  lose.  Have 
you  lost^  unjustly  lost,  your  esteem  and  credit  in  the 
world  ?  It  is  true,  notwithstanding,  that  for  a  time 
you  enjoyed    the   good    opinion  of  the  world,  and 


with  Prayer  in  Time  of  Jffiidion.  145 

your  obligations  unto  God  who  gave  you  to  enjoy 
it  for  that  period,  are  in  this  respect  unaltered  and 
unalterable.  You  cannot,  it  is  true,  thank  God  for 
a  blessing  he  has  taken  from  you;  but  it  is  your 
duly,  even  when  it  is  not  permitted  you  to  retain  it, 
it  is  still  your  duty  to  give  thanks  to  him  that  you 
had  that  blessing  once,  and  that  it  was  not  taken 
from  you  sooner.  There  was  a  portion  of  your 
life  that  was  happier  than  it  would  have  been  with- 
out it ;  ought  you  not  then  to  bless  him  for  the 
past,  while  you  implore  his  pity  on  the  present  ? — 
Does  it  not  become  you,  while  you  beseech  him  to 
comfort  you  under  the  loss,  to  thank  him  that  he 
blessed  you  with  the  enjoyment. — I  said,  but  per- 
haps I  ought  not  to  have  said,  that  you  cannot 
thank  God  for  a  blessing  which  he  has  taken  Irom 
you;  for  methinks,  if  reason  have  that  authority 
which  she  ought  to  have  over  your  affections,  you 
will  be  able,  even  after  you  have  lost  the  comforts 
in  which  you  delighted  most,  in  some  measure  to  re- 
enjoy  the  pleasures  that  they  gave  you.  Though 
the  blessing  be  gone,  your  memory  is  not  gone 
with  it ;  and  whilst  this  remains,  you  may  avail 
yourself  of  its  aid  to  supply  the  absence  of  the  com- 
fort you  have  lost,  by  bringing  back  into  the  pre- 
sent, the  enjoyments  of  the  past.  To  a  mind  that 
is  properly  atiected,  it  gives  less  pain  than  pleasure 
in  sickness,  to  recollect  the  season  of  health;  in 
poverty,  the  time  of  our  affluence  ;  in  our  separa- 
tion from  our  friends,  the  period  of  our  communion; 
in  our  adversity,  of  whatever  kind,  the  day  of  our 
prosperity.  Thus  we  may  in  a  manner  perpetuate 
our  enjoyments,  and  with  them  our  gratitude  ;  the 
pleasure  may  not  be  so  pure  and  lively,  but  it  is  by 
no  means  unreal.  Our  blessings  may  administer  to 
our  comfort,  even  after  we  are  deprived  of  them  ; 
the  present  may  be  made  more  happy   by  the  re- 


146         On  the  Duty  of  joining   Thanksgiving 

membrance  of  the  past.  The  perverseness  of  man- 
kind, it  is  true,  very  often  employs  their  recollection 
to  increase  their  misery:  they  may  use  it  for  a  bet- 
ter purpose  ;  and  is  not  this  a  state  of  mind,  after 
which  it  is  desirable  for  ourselves  and  dutiful  to- 
wards God,  that  we  should  carefully  aspire?  But, 

We  may  add  finally,  That  our  comforts,  though 
dead,  are  in  very  many  instances  not  absolutely  lost 
to  us  :  they  still  live  in  their  influences  and  their 
consequences.  All  our  past  enjoyments,  thouojh  the 
immediate  instruments  or  sources  of  them  be  no 
more,  have  each  had  their  efficacy  in  the  great 
chain  of  Providence,  have  each  contributed  their 
share  to  form  the  present  conjuncture  of  our  cir- 
cumstances, and  to  give  their  present  aspect  to  our 
affairs.  Affluent  if  you  have  been,  you  have  de- 
rived some  benefits  from  that  affluence  that  remain 
with  you  in  your  poverty :  and  if  any  man  has  had 
a  kind,  a  wise  and  pious  friend,  though  it  may  not 
be  in  his  power  perhaps  to  specify  them,  he  must 
have  derived  some  benefits  from  that  friendship  that 
will  live  with  him,  long  after  that  friend  is  dead  ; 
and  it  may  be,  long  after  he  is  dead  himself.  The 
same  might  be  said  of  many  other  blessings  once 
enjoyed  and  then  lost  again;  ought  we  not  then, 
though  we  have  lost  them,  to  give  thanks.'^ 

So  good  was  the  Apostle's  counsel,  so  wise  are 
they  that  keep  it.  ''  In  all  things,  therefore,  by 
prayer  and  supplication,  with  thanksgiving  let 
your  requests  be  made  known  unto  God ;  and 
the  peace  of  God,  which  passeth  all  understand- 
ing, shall  keep  your  hearts  and  minds  through  Christ 
Jesus." 


with  Prayer  in  Time  of  Affliction.  147 


PRAYER. 

O  Almighty  and  most  merciful  Father — This 
world  we  know  is  a  changeable  and  imperfect 
scene,  in  which  all  our  comforts  and  delights  are 
subject  to  perpetual  danger ;  may  we  rejoice  there- 
fore as  though  we  rejoiced  not,  and  weep  as  though 
we  wept  not,  knowing  that  the  fashion  thereof  soon 
passeth  away.  May  we  never  be  weary  or  faint  in 
our  minds,  but  may  we  run  with  patience  and  alacri- 
ty the  race  that  is  set  before  us. 

As  we  call  ourselves  the  disciples  of  Christ,  may 
we  habitually  exercise  and  assiduously  cultivate, 
that  spirit  of  ardent  piety,  that  entire  devotedness 
to  thy  will,  which  so  eminently  distinguished  and 
adorned  his  character.  May  the  power  of  thy  glo- 
rious gospel  to  impart  the  truest  dignity,  and  the 
noblest  consolations  to  the  human  mind,  from  day 
to  day  be  manifest  in  our  temper  and  in  our  con- 
duct; in  every  good  disposition,  and  in  all  worthy 
conduct,  may  we  continue  and  abound  still  more  and 
more :  in  all  things  by  prayer  and  supplication, 
with  thanksgiving,  mav  we  make  known  our  re- 
quests  unto  thee  ;  and  do  thou,  O  merciful  Father, 
uphold,  and  support  us,  and  keep  us  from  falling, 
till  we  be  presented  faultless  before  the  presence  of 
thy  glory  with  exceeding  joy. 


DISCOURSE    VII. 

MAN,    THE    PROPERTY    OF    GOD. 


Psalm  cxix.  94. 
Lord  I  atn  thine,  save  me. 

These  are  the  words  of  the  King  of  Israel,  address- 
ed to  tlie  supreme  King  of  kings  ;  and  although 
in  one  sense  they  might  witli  perfect  justice  be 
adopted  by  every  creature  he  has  made,  yet  there 
are  other  senses  in  whicli  they  coulJ  properly  be 
applied  by  none  but  those  happy  persons,  who 
could  safely  appeal  to  God  for  the  uprightness  of 
their  hearts,  and  the  integrity  of  their  conversation. 
The  true  Christian,  he,  who  to  faith  unfeigned,  has 
added  a  sincere  and  improving  holiness,  may  adopt 
them  in  their  full  extent.  As  proceeding  from  such 
a  character,  we  shall  consider  them  at  present,  and 
shall  show,  in  the  first  place,  what  they  may  be 
understood  to  signify,  and  afterwards  briefly  point 
out,  the  useful  purposes  to  which  they  may  be 
applied. 

Lord,  says  the  good  man,  I  am  thine  ;  which  may 
signify, 

First,  I  am  thy  creature,  thou  madest  me,  and 
not  I  myself.  When  I  look  back  through  a  (ew 
years  that  are  elapsed,  I  presently  arrive  at  that 
period,   when  as  yet  I  had  not  a  being.     1  cannot 


Man,  the  Properly  of  God.  149 

own  the  instruments  of  my  existence  for  its  cause 
and  origin  ;  for  how  should  they,  who  are  unac- 
quainted with  the  human  structure,  who  cannot 
themselves  boast  an  independent  being,  who  know 
not  what  my  spirit  is,  and  are  even  incapable  of 
imitating  my  outward  form,  how  should  the)  breathe 
into  me  the  breath  of  life,  or  of  what  inspiraiion 
are  they  possessed,  by  which  to  give  me  under- 
standing ? 

But,  as  there  is  no  other  mortal  to  whom  I  can 
ascribe  my  being,  so  neither  can  I  be  persuaded 
that  I  exist  through  any  blind  necessity  of  nature; 
1  understand  not  what  that  assertion  means  ;  1  leave 
it  to  those  who  are  capable  of  doing  it,  to  account 
for  intelligence,  without  a  designing  cause.  I  know 
very  well  what  my  own  conceptions  are,  when  I 
say  that  I  was  created  by  some  superiour  power, 
by  some  invisible  intelligence. 

When  I  observe  how  fearfully  and  wonderfully  I 
am  made,  when  I  contemplate  the  structure  of  my 
body,  and  the  economy  of  my  mind,  1  discern  such 
illustrious  proofs  of  power,  wisdom,  and  goodness, 
as  mark  me  for  the  workmanship  of  a  nobler 
artist,  and  bid  me  look  to  heaven  for  the  maker 
of  my  frame. — When  1  consider  how  much  I  am 
dependent  on  the  world  around  me,  when  I  re- 
flect how  my  various  powers  are  accommodated  to 
its  various  objects,  when  I  see  how  ampiv  it  is 
furnished  with  eveiy  thing  necessary  to  supply  niy 
wants,  and  to  promote  my  comfort,  I  cannot  but 
conclude,  that  he  who  made  the  world,  made  me 
also  ;  that  the  Creator  of  the  heavens  and  the  earth, 
is  the  Father  also  of  the  human  race.  Lord  1  am 
thine,  thou  madest  me. 

9 


150  3IaH,   the   Proyerly  of  God. 

Secondly,  These  words  may  likewise  express 
another  sentin)ent,  viz.  As  I  am  thy  creature,  so 
also  am  I  thy  charge  ;  made  by  thy  hands,  by  thy 
hands  1  am  supported.  As  my  life  was  originally 
the  gift  of  God,  so  it  is  his  providence  that  con- 
tinues and  sustains  it.  When  I  look  into  the  world 
around  me,  I  see  the  vacant  jilaces  of  many  a  dear 
companion  of  my  infancy  and  childhood  ;  my  fa- 
thers, where  are  they  ?  my  brethren  and  my  friends, 
are  they  all  living  now  ?  They  who  came  before 
me,  are  gone  before  me;  and  of  multitudes  that 
came  with  me  into  life,  many  have  long  ago  taken 
up  their  residence,  in  that  dark  and  silent  house 
which  is  appointed  for  all  the  living.  Who  has 
made  me  to  differ  from  another  ?  Why  am  [  among 
the  living,  and  not  among  the  dead  .'^  Why  was  I 
not  long  ago  cut  off  from  all  farther  capacity  of 
usefulness  and  possibility  of  improvement  ?  Whence 
is  it,  that  amidst  so  many  dying  lamps,  my  lamp 
is  burning  still. '^  Whence  is  it,  that  I  yet  have  it  in 
my  power  to  grow  in  grace  and  to  make  ampler 
preparations  for  eternity  ?  Is  it  through  any  innate 
vigour  of  my  own  ?  is  it  the  effect  of  my  own  pru- 
dence, the  result  of  my  own  care  ?  Alas,  I  am  weak 
and  frail  and  impotent  as  others,  as  unable  to  re- 
deem myself,  as  to  redeem  my  brother  from  the 
grave.  I  am  totally  ignorant  by  what  means  to 
prolong  my  being,  and  cannot  even  promise  myself 
the  completion  of  the  hour  that  is  now  begun. — 
No,  blessed  God,  I  am  thine;  thy  charge ;  thy 
care  ;  in  thv  favour  is  my  life  ;  it  is  thy  food  that 
feeds  me;  it  is  thine  air  by  which  I  am  refreshed; 
it  is  thy  blessing  on  my  industry  that  supplies  me 
with  all  things  needful  and  convenient  for  me  ;  it 
is  thine  arm  on  which  I  lean  ;  it  is  thy  shield  by 
which  [  am  encompassed.  A  thousand  dangers 
hover  round  my  head,  and  the  seeds  ol  a  thousand 


Man,  the  Property  of  God.  151 

mortal  maladies  are  within  me ;  amidst  such  infinity 
of  deaths,  who  but  God  could  have  preserved  me  ? 
It  is  having  obtained  help  from  God,  that  1  continue 
hitherto ! 

Thirdly;  Lord,  says  the  good  man,  I  am  thine, 
the  creature  of  thy  power,  the  charge  of  thy  provi- 
dence;  I  also  am  thy  subject.  When  I  look  into 
what  lies  below  me  in  the  rank  of  being,  I  observe 
that  all  things  fulfil  the  purposes  and  obey  the  or- 
dinances of  God.  I  see  that  his  will  is  done  by  the 
animal  creation,  the  earth,  and  the  heavens.  But 
they  obey  him  unconscious  of  their  obedience  ;  they 
know  not  whose  they  are,  and  whom  they  serve.  I 
find  within  me  a  nobler  principle;  I  know  my  mas- 
ter, and  I  know  his  law.  Mine  is  a  conscious,  vo- 
luntary service.  The  things  that  are  seen  reveal 
to  me  "  the  Maker's  eternal  power  and  domin- 
ion ;"  and  the  frame  of  nature,  and  the  course  of 
providence,  instruct  me  concerning  his  character  and 
government.  All  things,  both  around  and  within 
me,  convince  me  of  my  absolute  dependence  upon 
God;  and  the  native,  uncorrupted  sentiments  of  my 
own  heart,  appear  to  me  invested  with  the  power 
and  authority  of  a  law  from  the  Father  of  my 
spirit.  Something  there  is  within  this  breast  of 
mine,  that  assures  me  I  am  not  accountable  to  my- 
self alone  ;  that  I  am  not  only  to  answer  for  my  con- 
duct to  my  fellow  creatures  of  mankind,  but  that  I 
am  amenable  to  a  higher  tribunal.  1  feel  within  me 
unconquerable  forebodings  of  future  happiness  or 
misery  :  these  I  am  necessitated  to  recrard,  as  the 
sanctions  of  the  law  of  God.  While  I  am  good 
and  do  good,  my  hopes  of  happiness  are  lively ;  when 
I  fail  in  duty,  my  hopes  languish,  and  ray  apprehen- 
sions rise.  Yes,  blessed  be  God  !  I  know  his 
name ;  his  law  is  not  hidden  from  me,  and  my  obli- 


152  Man,  the    Property  of  God. 

gations  to  obey  him  are  complete.  His  gfospel  hath 
contirrued  what  his  finger  hath  engraven  on  my 
heart  I  own  him  for  my  Father  and  ray  God,  and 
I  do  homage  to  him  as  my  Lord  and  King.  Snb- 
jent  I  am  to  parents,  masters,  and  rnlers,  but  my 
obedience  to  them  is  an  act  of  obedience  also  to 
God  ;  and  I  am  accountable  to  him  for  the  reverence 
in  which  I  hold  those,  whom  his  providence  hath  set 
over  me.  But  my  subjection  to  earthly  Lords,  is 
limited  and  mutable;  they  may  abuse  their  authori- 
ty, and  then  my  obligations  of  subjection  are  annul- 
led ;  as  they  change,  my  allegiance  changes,  and 
perishes,  as  they  perish  ;  but  the  throne  of  God  is 
for  ever,  and  his  dominion  endureth  throusrhout  all 
generations.  No  injunctions  of  an  earthly  master 
can  absolve  me  from  the  duties  that  I  owe  unto  him; 
no  changes  of  my  being  can  relax  my  obligations 
unto  God  ;  living,  dying,  dead,  reviving,  I  am  his 
subject,  and  must  be  so  for  ever. 

Fourthly  ;  Lord,  says  the  good  man,  I  am  thine, 
thy  creature,  thy  care,  thy  subject ;  yea  more,  I  am 
thy  property.  Let  him  dispose  of  me  as  he  pleas- 
eth,  shall  he  not  do  what  he  will  with  his  own? 
''•  The  earth  is  the  Lord's,  and  the  fulness  thereof; 
the  world,  and  they  that  dwell  therein;  for  he  hath 
founded  it  upon  the  seas,  and  established  it  upon 
the  floods."  i  take  possession  of  a  portion  of  his 
earth;  I  take  possession  of  the  inferiour  creatures; 
mine  I  call  them;  1  dispose  of  them  according  to 
my  pleasure,  and  never  once  suspect  mysell  ot  in- 
justice or  impertinence.  What  right  have  1  to  them 
which  God  has  not,  in  an  infinitely  juster  sense,  to 
me  ?  Do  I  preserve  and  support  them  ?  Did  I 
make  and  fashion  them?  Was  it  my  word  or  power 
that  brought  them  into  being?  Is  not  the  bame 
great  God  our  common  Maker  and  supporter,  and 


Many  the  Property  of  God.  15S 

therefore  our  common  owner  and  proprietor  ?    Yes, 
Lord,  I  am  thine. 

In  the  fifth  place  :  Lord,  says  the  good  man,  I 
am  thine,  not  only  by  the  necessity  of  nature,  by 
the  inevitable  circumstances  of  my  being,  but  thine 
also,  by  voluntary  choice,  and  deliberate  agree- 
ment. 

It  depended  not  on  myself  vphether  I  would  be 
thy  creature,  thy  care,  thy  subject,  and  thy  pio- 
perty  ;  these  I  was  before  1  was  capable  of  knowing 
it;  these  I  am,  and  these  I  must  be.  But,  bless- 
ed be  God,  there  is  soniething  dependent  on  my- 
self, by  which  I  may  testify  my  reverence  of  his 
glory,  and  my  gratitude  for  his  benefits. — The 
cheerfulness  of  my  homage  cannot  be  a  matter  of 
necessity  ;  the  joy  of  my  obedience,  cannot  be  ex- 
torted. This  I  have  of  my  own  to  offer  unto  God, 
"to  delight  myself  in  him  and  in  his  law:"  it  de- 
pends upon  myself,  that  he  who  must  of  necessity 
be  my  ruler,  should  of  choice  also  be  my  Lord  ;  his 
creature  1  am,  but  it  rests  upon  my  own  determina- 
tion, whether  I  will  revere  him  as  my  Maker  :  the 
care  of  his  providence  1  am,  but  it  remains  in  my 
own  breast  whether  I  will  gratefully  acknowledge 
his  beneficence  :  among  his  subjects  1  am,  but  it 
must  be  ray  own  deed  to  live  faithful  to  my  alle- 
giance :  his  property  1  am,  he  may  dispose  of  me 
as  he  pleaseth,  but  it  must  be  my  own  to  rejoice  in 
such  an  owner:  to  acquiesce  in  his  dispensations, 
to  triumph  in  his  government,  and  to  devote  myself 
to  his  service  ;   this  must  be  my  own. 

Take  me  then,  great  God,  take  me  into  the  num- 
ber of  thy  people,  own  me  for  a  free,  a  voluniaiy, 
and  a  cheerful  servant,  for  all  i  have,  and  ail  1  am. 


164  Man,  the  Property  of  God. 

is  thine.  The  world  I  know  is  a  fallacious  flatter- 
er;  sin  is  an  oppressive  tjrant;  the  service  of  the 
flesh  is  infamy  and  bondage;  the  service  of  God  is 
perfect  freedom,  and  in  keeping  his  command- 
ments there  is  great  reward.  How  happy  am  I, 
that  (  have  a  heart  to  give  him  for  his  benefits  ! 
How  do  I  rejoice  in  this  privilege  of  my  nature, 
that  I  can  serve  him  with  my  whole  soul,  that  my 
obedience  may  proceed  from  choice,  not  compul- 
sion !  How  does  my  spirit  triumph  in  the  Lord, 
that  among  all  the  competitors  for  the  duty  and 
affection  of  mankind,  I  can  despise  every  interfering 
claimant,  and  resign  myself  wholly  unto  him  who 
made  me?  Who  can  plead  a  better  title  to  me? 
who  will  provide  for  me  a  better  portion  ?  who  will 
cherish  me  with  such  tender  mercy  ?  Unworthy 
indeed  I  am,  great  God,  but  though  unworthy,  I  am 
not  insincere,  far  be  from  me  the  liar's  tongue,  and 
the  hypocrite's  pretence  :  it  is,  thou  knowest  it  is, 
my  desire  and  joy  to  do,  and  bear  thy  will.  O 
that  thou  wouldst  enkindle  in  me  a  zeal  that  never 
should  grow  cold  in  thy  service,  and  strengthen 
me  with  a  strength  that  should  never  languish  or 
decay  I  Joyful  is  the  expectation,  and  truly  blessed 
is  the  hope,  that  the  day  is  coming,  when  I  shall 
have  done  with  the  avocations  and  incumbrances 
of  mortality  ;  that  the  day  is  coming,  when  I  shall 
see  thee  face  to  face,  and  serve  thee,  as  I  wish  to 
serve  thee,  with  unwearied  activity  and  unspeak- 
able delight  !  Often,  O  thou  all  knowing  God,  often 
hast  thou  heard  me  in  the  exultation  of  my  grati- 
tude crying  out,  Who  have  I  in  heaven  but  thee, 
and  what  is  there  upon  earth  that  \  can  desire  in 
comparison  of  thee  ?  Often  hast  thou  heard  me, 
from  the  depths  of  affliction,  and  in  the  anguish  of 
my  spirit,  professing  thee  to  be  my  trust  and  confi- 
dence, my  only  portion  and  my  only   hope.     Often 


Man,  the  Property  of  God.  155 

hast  thou  seen  me,  numbering  myself  among  thy 
people,  owning  those  obligations  which  no  duty  can 
repay,  and  taking  up  those  resolutions  which  eter- 
nity only  can  absolve  !  These  sentiments  I  would 
cherish,  these  engagements  I  would  ratify.  I  am 
not  my  own,  but  the  property  of  God,  and  I  would 
be  his  for  ever. 

In  the  sixth  and  last  place,  I  would  observe,  that 
the  good  man  may  adopt  the  language  of  the  Psalm- 
ist in  yet  another  sense,  herein  appealing  to  the 
condescension  and  to  the  promises  of  God  that  he 
will  accept,  and  keep,  and  save  all  those  who  sin- 
cerely and  diligently  obey  him.  "  Ye  shall  be  to 
me  a  people,"  saitli  he,  and  "I  will  be  to  you  a 
God."  '*  Come  out  from  among  the  children  of  im- 
penitence and  unbelief,  and  I  will  be  to  you  a  father, 
and  ye  shall  be  my  sons  and  daughters,  saith  the 
Lord  almighty."  "To  godliness  belong  all  the  pro- 
mises of  this  life,  and  of  that  which  is  to  come." 
"  In  it  all  the  promises  of  God  are  sure  and  certain  ;" 
Then  saith  the  Christian,  Lord  I  am  thine,  thou,  the 
maker  of  my  frame,  art  my  Father  and  my  God; 
all  that  id  included  in  thy  favour,  is  my  portion  and 
my  right,  such  hath  thy  promise  made  it;  humbly 
do  I  appeal  to  thee  for  the  sincerity  of  my  repent- 
ance, of  my  faith,  and  duty,  and  with  equal  humility 
would  [  claim  of  thee  what  thou  hast  most  graciously 
condescended  to  propose  to  me.  Often  have  I  bless- 
ed thee,  that  my  viituous  friends  would  own  me  ;  I 
have  often  blessed  thee,  that  those  who  could  con- 
tribute to  my  comfort  in  any  form,  would  own  me; 
often  have  1  blessed  thee,  that  my  pious  parents 
would  call  me  theirs  ;  but  if  thou,  great  God,  wilt 
own  me,  if  thou  wilt  call  uje  thine,  if  thou  wilt  adopt 
me  into  thy  family,  and  write  my  name  in  the  book  of 
life,  after  this,  what  have  1  to  fear  ?  and  beyond  this, 
what  have  I  to  wish  ? 


156  Man,  the  Properly  of  God. 

Havinor  thus  illustrated  the  words  of  the  text,  and 
considered  it  as  expressing  the  sentiujents  of  the 
good  man's  fieart,  it  remains  now  that  I  should  inti- 
mate some  useful  purposes  to  which  it  may  be  appli- 
ed.  In  the  first  place, 

1.  If  we  be  the  property  of  God,  how  highly 
reasonable  is  it,  that  we  should  study  and  obey 
his   will. 

You  honour  and  obey  your  parents,  and  herein 
you  do  well.  If  any  man  feed,  and  clothe,  and  pro- 
vide for  you,  you  are  modest,  humble,  grateful,  and 
herein  you  do  well.  You  are  submissive,  respectful, 
and  failhfcjl,  to  those  who  are  set  over  you  in  au- 
thority, and  herein  you  deserve  our  imitation  and 
our  praise.  If  any  man  deposit  his  property  in  your 
hands,  you  would  dread  the  very  thought  of  violat- 
ing your  trust,  or  of  injuring  your  brother,  und 
herein  you  prove  yourself  faithful  and  just.  Re- 
member then,  that  you  are  the  creatures,  the  de- 
pendents, the  subjects,  the  property  of  God  ;  let 
your  sentiments  and  conduct  towards  others,  respect- 
ing each  of  these  relations,  instruct  you  in  the  senti- 
ments and  conduct  which  you  ought  to  maintain 
towards  the  great  Lord  and  ruler  of  the  world.  But 
more  particularly, 

Secondly,  If  you  be  the  property  of  God,  you 
have  the  highest  reason  to  be  thankful  to  him 
for  every  comfort,  and  to  be  resigned  under  every 
affliction. 

Had  you  been  possessed  of  an  independent  being, 
had  you  been  strictly  and  properl)  your  own,  had  it 
been  of  your  own  accord  that  you  had  received  the 
benetils,  and  become  the  subjects,  and  owned  your- 


IMan,  (he  Property  of  God.  15/ 

selves  the  property  of  God,  you  might  then  have 
pleaded  that  it  was  not  an  absolute,  but  a  conditional 
engagement  :  you  might  then  have  received  his 
bounties,  as  what  were  in  justice  due  to  you,  and 
murmured  against  every  thing  that  was  unaccept- 
able in  your  circumstances,  as  a  violation  of  the  trea- 
ty you  had  made  with  God  :  but,  if  you  be  his  with- 
out any  merit  in  becoming  such  ;  if  you  be  his  to  do 
with  you  whatever  seemeth  to  him  good  ;  if  you 
have  no  claim  of  right  on  your  Creator,  how  l-ighly 
does  this  consideration  enhance  your  obligations  to 
him  for  every  comfort  of  your  existence?  How  inde- 
cent, how  impious,  how  unriatural  is  it  to  murmur  at 
any  thing  which  he  otay  appoint ! 

In  the  third  place,  [f  ye  be  God's,  not  only  by  the 
necessity  of  nature,  but  by  your  own  deliberate 
choice  and  your  own  voluntary  engagements,  con- 
sider how  highly  it  behoves  you  to  be  steady  to  your 
choice,  and  I'aithful  to  your  vows.  If  you  suspect 
that  you  have  determined  rashly,  think  again  :  con- 
sider whether  you  can  find  a  better  master,  or  en- 
gacrc  yourselves  in  a  more  gainful  service.  Remem- 
ber that  it  were  better  for  you  never  to  have  known 
the  way  of  righteousness,  than  after  having  known 
it,  to  turn  fiom  the  holy  commandment  delivered 
unto  you  ;  and  tremble,  lest  to  the  guilt  of  profane- 
ness  and  of  rebellion,  you  add  the  accessory  guilt  of 
perfidy  and  falsehood. 

In  the  fourth  and  last  place,  If  we  be  God's,  if 
owning  him  for  our  lawgiver  and  our  judge,  he 
owns  us  for  his  people,  and  his  cl.ildren,  how  solid 
is  the  ground  on  which  our  hopes  are  built,  and 
how  secure  our  happiness  !  Whatever  comes  to 
us,  comes  to  us  for  our  good,  for  it  comes  to  us 
from  an  almighty  friend,  who  knows  our  state, 
10 


158  Man,  the  Property  of  God. 

and  tenderly  regards  our  interests.  Though  there 
may  be  some  things  in  our  condition  which  are 
not  for  the  present  joyous,  but  grievous,  yet  if  we 
be  God's,  God  is  ours,  and  if  God  be  ours,  what 
security  can  we  want  ot^  an  ample  indemnification 
in  futurity  ?  Afflictions  are  very  tolerable  when 
they  arc  not  the  ministers  of  wrath  ;  and  prospe- 
rity is  doubly  acceptable  when  we  can  receive  it 
as  the  testimony  of  divine  favour.  The  men  of 
the  world  are  apt  to  boast  themselves  of  their  fe- 
licity, but  if  they  now  prefer  the  world  to  God, 
the  time  will  come,  when  they  will  praise  the 
Christian's  choice.  Their  pleasures  will  decline, 
his  will  be  improving  ;  their  hopes  will  vanish 
away,  his  will  he  more  than  realized  ;  their  confi- 
dence will  fail  them,  but  the  Christian  rests  upon 
the  rock  of  ages.  In  the  time  of  apprehension 
and  of  fear,  in  the  hour  of  trouble  and  affliction, 
in  the  moment  of  death,  in  the  solemnities  of 
judgment,  they  will  want,  what  the  world  cannot 
give  its  votaries  ;  and  what  God  only  can  bestow. 
In  these  trying  seasons,  when  every  thing  about 
those  who  are  without  God,  is  dark,  and  gloomy, 
and  distressing,  the  Christian,  supported  by  his 
conscience,  and  encouraged  by  the  divine  pro- 
mises, can  derive  light  and  conjfort  from  the  rela- 
tion that  he  bears  to  him  in  whose  hands  are  the 
fates  of  every  living  thing.  When  all  subluna- 
ry comforts  have  taken  their  flight,  when  human 
friendships  can  no  longer  avail,  the  hope  of  the 
Christian  remains  uninjured,  for  in  this  world  he 
placed  not  his  happiness  : — he  had  long  fixed  it 
there,  where  true  joys  only  are  to  be  found,  whi- 
ther he  is  now  going  to  reap  that  glorious  harvest, 
the  gracious  reward  of  his  faith,  patience,  and 
oliedience  ;  for  he  knows  who  it  is  that  hath  said, 
"  be  faithful  unto  death,  and  I  will  give  thee  a  crown 
of  life." 


Man,  the  Property  of  God.  150 


PRAYER. 

O  Lord  we  are  thine  by  ten  thousand  ties, 
for  thou  art  our  Father,  the  Author  of  our  being, 
with  all  its  powers,  its  comforts,  and  its  hopes. 
By  our  own  choice  also  we  are  thine,  for  whom 
have  we  in  heaven  but  thee,  and  what  is  there 
upon  earth  that  we  can  reasonably  desire  in  com- 
parison of  thee  ?  Thy  favour  is  our  life,  we  will 
seek  it  with  our  whole  hearts  ;  and  we  thank 
thee  for  the  comfortable  assurances  thou  hast 
given,  that  even  by  us,  unworthy  as  we  are,  thy 
favour  and  thy  friendship  may  be  obtained;  for 
"  the  righteous  Lord  loveth  righteousness,  though 
he  be  angry  with  the  wicked  every  day  :"  "  The 
Lord  God  is  a  sun  and  a  shield,  and  no  good 
thing  will  he  withhold  from  them  that  walk  up- 
rightly." O  that  our  hearts  were  directed  always, 
to  keep  all  thy  statutes,  then  should  we  never 
be  ashamed,  distressed,  or  dejected  in  thy  pre- 
sence, when  we  had  respect  unto  all  thy  com- 
mandments ! 

There  is  a  day,  we  trust,  approaching,  the  hope 
and  prospect  of  which  is  the  support  and  triumph 
of  our  souls;  there  is  a  day,  we  trust,  approach- 
ing, when  all  they  that  have  continued  faithful 
unto  death,  shall  have  done  with  sin,  and  sorrow, 
and  infirmity,  and  satisfied  with  thy  perfect  like- 
ness, shall  be  for  ever  happy  in  thine  heavenly 
presence  !  In  the  meantime,  O  God,  let  thy  grace 
be  sufficient  for  us ;  confirm  us  in  all  our  holy 
resolutions  :  establish  us  in  the  steady  government 
of  our  own  hearts  and   minds;  raise  us  into   such 


160  Man,  (he  Proper  1 1/  of  God. 

superiority  to  the  short-lived  pleasures  of  this 
present  scene,  that  we  may  never  be  seduced  by 
them  from  our  allegiance  unto  thee. — ^\  hile  we 
live,  may  we  live  unto  the  Lord  ;  when  we  die, 
may  we  die  unto  the  Lord  ;  in  life,  in  death, 
and  to  eternity,  may  we  be  thine,  henceforth,  and 
for  ever- 


DISCOURSE    VIII. 

ON     THE     OBLIGATION,   THE    IMPORTANCE,   AND 

THE   REASONABLENESS    OF     THE   LOVE 

OF    GOD. 


Mark  xil.    30,  31. 

Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  with  all 
thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy  niiod,  and  with  all  thy  strength,  this  is 
the  first  comraandment ;  and  the  second  is  like  unto  it,  namely 
this,  thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself.  There  is  none  other 
cooimanduient  greater  than  these. 

In  the  history  of  our  Lord  we  read,  that  as  he  was 
teaching  in  the  temple  at  Jerusalem,  one  of  the 
Scribes,  having  heard  him  reasoning  with  the  Sad- 
ducees,  and  perceiving  that  he  had  answered  them 
well,  was  so  highly  pleased  that  he  had  put  to  si- 
lence these  adversaries  of  the  Pharisees,  to  whose 
sect  he  himself  belonged,  that  he  was  desirous  to 
make  a  further  trial  concerning  his  knowledge  of 
the  law,  hoping  probably  that  what  Jesus  might 
reply  to  the  question  he  was  about  to  propose  to 
him,  would  be  equally  favourable  to  his  own  opin- 
ion, and  as  humiliating  to  those,  who  differed  from 
hira.  With  these  views  he  addressed  Jesus  as  fol- 
lows: ''Rabbi,  which  is  the  first  commandment  of 
all  ?'"'  alluding,  it  is  probable,  to  the  divisions  that 
subsisted  among  the  Jews  concerning  this  subject; 
gome  giving   the  chief  place  to  the   law  of  circum- 


162  On  the  Obligation^  the  Importance^  and 

cision ;  others  to  the  law  of  sacrifices;  others 
again  to  some  other  part  of  their  ceremonial  ap- 
pointments ;  and  some  (ew^  in  the  number  of  which 
it  seems  was  this  lawyer  himself,  giving  to  the  mo- 
ral precepts  the  preference  justlj  their  due,  and 
considerinor  all  these  contentions  as  vain  and  frivo- 
lous,  while  justice,  mercy,  and  faith,  were  over- 
looked and  disregarded.  The  answer  of  our  Lord 
m  the  text,  fully  accorded  to  the  expectation  of  the 
Scribe;  and  the  historian  goes  on  to  relate,  that  he 
replied,  "  Master,  thou  hast  said  the  truth,  for 
there  is  one  God,  and  there  is  none  other  but  he  : 
and  to  love  him  with  all  the  heart,  and  with  all  the 
understanding,  and  with  all  the  strength,  and  to 
love  his  neighbour  as  himself,  is  more  than  all  burnt- 
offerings  and  sacrifices." 

Such  was  the  sense  of  Moses,  whose  words  are 
quoted  by  our  Lord,  such  also  was  the  sense  of 
Christ  himself,  and  such,  as  appears  from  the  re- 
ply that  the  lawyer  made  to  him,  are  the  natural 
convictions  of  the  human  heart,  concerning  the  ob- 
ligation, the  importance,  and  the  excellency  of  the 
love  of  God.  Religion  is  the  one  thing  needful, 
and  the  love  of  God  is  the  first  great  principle  of  reli- 
gion, the  place  of  which  nothing  can  supply,  and 
for  the  want  of  which  nothing  can  atone.  Love  is 
the  very  spirit  of  Christianity;  it  is  the  affection 
that  breathes  in  every  page  of  the  gospel,  it  dis- 
tinguished the  temper  of  its  Author,  and  is  by  him 
given  as  the  characteristick  of  his  followers,  ft  is 
the  affection  which  Christianity  has  placed  above 
faith  and  hope,  which  she  delights  to  honour,  which 
she  labours  to  inculcate,  which  she  represents  as 
the  parent  root  of  all  other  virtuous  affectioris.  as 
the  fountain  of  peace  in  this  world,  and  a  title  to 
happiness,  in  that  which  is  to  come. 


the  Reasonableness  of  Ihe  Love  of  God.         163 

The  two  great  objects  of  Christian  love,  are, 
God  and  man  ;  our  Creator  and  our  brethren.  God, 
as  the  source  of  all  excellence  and  happiness;  and 
men,  as  they  are  formed  in  his  image,  the  creatures 
of  his  power,  and  the  children  of  his  family. 

It  is  on  the  first  of  these  topicks,  namely,  the 
love  of  God,  that  I  mean  to  dwell  at  present ;  I 
shall  therefore  place  before  jou  some  observations 
relating  to  the  causes  of  this  affection,  and  the 
foundations  on  which  it  stands,  or  the  considera- 
tions whence  it  flows  ;  or,  in  other  vvoids,  endea- 
vour to  show  }ou,  why  we  do,  and  ought  to  love 
God. 

In  the  first  place.  The  unspotted  purity,  the  im- 
partial justice,  the  inviolable  truth,  the  invariable 
fidelity,  and  the  disinterested  benignity  of  God,  do 
most  righteously  challenge  the  pure  and  ardent  love 
of  all  his  intelligent  creation.  The  heart  that  un- 
derstands  what  these  things  are,  and  is  capable  of 
contemplating  these  attributes  of  deity,  must  be 
sunk  into  deep  depravit),  if,  beholding  the  almighty 
Father  arrayed  in  all  the  beauties  of  holiness,  re- 
joicing in  his  works,  disposing  all  things  accord- 
ing to  the  weight  and  measure  of  wisdom  and  of 
equity,  and  ruling  all  things  with  equal  impartiality 
and  tenderness,  it  does  not  feel  itself  elevated  with 
a  sacred  joy,  in  so  sublime  a  contemplation;  if  it 
does  not  find  itself  kindled  into  the  devout  affec- 
tions of  reverence  and  love.  A  heart  duly  pene- 
trated with  these  views  of  the  divine  perfections, 
will  necessarily  conceive  these  sentin)ents,  and  feel- 
ing their  blessedness,  will  wish  to  prolong  them  in 
itself  for  ever;  and  to  communicate  them,  as  well 
for  their  own  sakes,  as  for  their  Creator's  glory,  to 
every  other  heart  within  its  reach  and  influence. 
But  to  proceed, 


164        On  the  Obligatiau,  the  Importance^  and 

In  the  second  place;  We  ought  to  love  God  for 
the  happiness  enjoyed  by  others,  as  well  as  for 
those  blessings  in  which  we  ourselves  are  partakers — 
not  only  for  his  perfections  as  they  reside  in  himself, 
but  on  account  of  their  operations  as  they  are  bene- 
ficently exerted  towards  others. 

The  human  heart  is  not  naturally,  and  till  it  be 
perverted,  cannot  become  uninterested  in  the  hap- 
piness of  others.  Their  miseries  instantly  awaken 
our  compassion,  and  if  a  false  self-interest  has 
not  laid  us  open  to  the  influence  of  jealousy  and 
envy,  the  sight  of  their  happiness  is  a  consider- 
able addition  to  our  own.  We  love  the  patriot, 
or  the  sage,  the  publick  benefactor,  who  has  con- 
tributed to  augment  the  sum  of  human  happiness, 
however  distant  the  age  or  country  in  which  he 
lived,  although  we  ourselves  can  have  reaped 
no  benefit  from  his  exertions.  The  affeclion  he 
bare  unto  the  human  species  at  large,  gives  him 
an  interest  in  our  hearts,  and  we  think  ourselves 
indebted  to  him  lor  the  benefits  he  conferred  on 
those  who  were  no  otherwise  related  to  us,  than 
by  the  similitude  of  their  nature,  their  character,  or 
circumstances.  Those  scenes  of  happiness,  which 
we  never  shall  experience,  which  we  never  shall  be- 
hold, fill  our  hearts  nevertheless  with  pleasure  and 
delight.  By  that  power  of  sympathy,  implanted  in 
our  breasts,  by  the  wise  and  gracious  Author  of  our 
frame,  we  not  only  may,  hut  unless  we  are  become 
miserably  depraved,  we  must,  in  some  measure, 
enjoy  that  happiness  which  we  conceive  to  be  en- 
joyed by  every  other  human  being.  We  therefore, 
most  reasonably,  and  most  naturally,  consider  our- 
selves as  partaking  in  their  obligations,  and  look 
upon  ourselves  as  bound  to  go  along  with  them  in 
their  gratitude.     If  they  be  unmindful  of  their  ob- 


the  Reasonableness  of  (he  LoDi  of  God.        165 

ligalions,  we  are  so  much  more  impressed  with  the 
goodness  of  their  benefactor,  who  deserved  not 
their  ingratitude  ;  if  thej  be  duly  sensible  to  his 
beneficence,  we  approve  their  characters ;  our  love 
to  them  increases  our  love  to  him  who  does  them 
good,  and  we  go  along  with  them  in  all  the  just  and 
ardent  expressions  of  their  gratitude.  As  soon  as 
any  man  becomes  capable  of  contemplating  the  hap- 
piness of  others  with  indifference,  and  ceases  to 
take  any  interest  in  their  welfare,  so  soon  he  be- 
comes an  object  of  disapprobation  and  of  censure, 
not  only  unto  others,  but  also  to  his  own  mind.  If 
such  then  be  the  uncorrupted,  and  approved  sentiments 
of  the  human  heart,  with  respect  to  the  happiness  of 
others;  if  it  thus  hold  itself  under  obligation  to 
regard  the  benefactor  of  a  single  family,  a  town,  or 
a  province,  as  a  benefactor  to  itself;  apply  this  prin- 
ciple to  the  great  universal  benefactor,  and  say, 
with  what  sentiments  of  love,  veneration,  and  de- 
light, your  hearts  ought  to  embrace  him. 

Is  it  needful  to  illustrate  this  proposition  ?  to  un- 
fold the  considerations  on  which  it  rests  ? — Reflect 
then,  with  regard  to  the  comfort  of  the  human  race, 
how  divine  mercy,  having  endured  from  everlastings 
promises  to  endure  unto  everlasting  still :  consider, 
how  partial  evil  conduces  to  general  felicity  ;  how 
the  temporary  sufferings  of  individuals,  often  prove 
the  means  of  greater  happiness  both  to  themselves 
and  others;  how  they  flow  from  that  very  same 
constitution  of  things  whence  all  their  blessings 
spring  :  observe,  what  heartfelt  satisfactions,  and  in- 
effable delights,  proceed  from  the  consciousness  of 
virtue:  and,  when  you  have  collected  all  these 
things  together,  then  say,  if  as  a  father  pitieth  his 
children,  the  Lord  pitieth  not  them  that  fear  hini  ? 
Add  to  this,  the  benignity  that  appears  in  the  con- 

11 


166         On  the  Obligation^  the  Importance,  and 

stitution  of  the  world,  how  the  sinner  is  invited  to 
repentance  in  the  dispensation  of  divine  grace;  add 
together  all  that  this  world  gives  in  possession, 
and  in  hope  ;  to  temporal,  add  spiritual  blessings, 
and  then  say,  if  it  be  not  reasonable,  if  it  be  not 
their  indispensable  dutj,  that  men  should  praise  the 
Lord  for  his  goodness,  and  for  his  wonderful  works 
unto  the  children  of  men  ? 

In  the  frame  of  nature,  in  the  course  of  provi- 
dence, in  the  productions  of  the  earth,  in  the  vi- 
cissitudes of  the  seasons,  in  the  fruits  of  industry,  in  the 
advantages  of  commerce ;  in  the  good  will  and 
good  oflfices  of  mankind  ;  in  the  comforts  of  domes- 
tick  life,  in  the  blessings  of  friendsliip,  of  civil  and 
political  society,  in  the  power  of  habit,  in  the  joy 
of  possession,  in  the  anticipation  of  hope  ;  in  these, 
and  in  many  other  instances  that  might  be  distinctly 
enumerated,  the  most  liberal  supplies  are  granted 
us,  not  only  for  the  comfort,  but  for  the  delight  and 
entertainment  of  our  lives.  Look  upon  the  earth, 
and  behold  with  what  beauty  the  goodness  of  God 
has  adorned  the  place  of  our  habitation  ;  consider 
how  the  same  general  laws  of  nature,  and  the  same 
general  course  of  providence  prevails  throughout 
every  region  and  eveiy  climate  of  the  world  ;  dis- 
pensing with  liberal  hand  the  common  benefits  of 
life  to  men  of  every  language,  and  of  every  coun- 
try :  consider  further,  that  the  most  important 
blessings  are  the  most  common,  those  which  are 
most  necessary  to  all,  withheld  from  none  ;  and  then 
say,  if  the  tender  mercies  of  God  be  not  over  all 
his  works  ? 

While  every  object  we  behold  bears  testimony 
to  every  sense,  that  God  is  love  ;  while  all  around 
us  from  every  region  of  the  earth,  the  voice  of  joy, 


the  Reasonableness  of  the  Love  of  God.         167 

if  not  of  gratitude,  is  ascendins:  to  the  throne  of 
the  most  high,  owe  we  nothing  unto  God  that  he 
has  spread  so  fair  a  scene  of  happiness  before  our 
ejes  ?  Owe  we  nothing  unto  God  that  he  has  pro- 
vided so  various,  extensive,  and  satisfactory  an  en- 
tertainment for  our  sympathy  and  good  will  ?  Are 
the  pleasures  of  benevolence,  the  only  pleasures 
that  we  do  not  feel  ?  the  only  joys  that  are  unable 
to  awaken  our  gratitude  and  love. 

In  the  third  place.  We  ought  to  love  God  on  our 
own  account ;  on  account  of  the  numerous  and  im- 
portant blessings  for  which  we  ourselves  are  indebt- 
ed to  him.  Let  us,  each  of  us,  examine  strictly  the 
circumstances  of  our  present  situation,  try  to  enu- 
merate the  various  mercies  we  enjoy,  and  we  shall 
find  their  number  swell  far  beyond  what  those  who 
have  not  been  accustomed  to  such  an  inquiry,  could 
suspect  or  imagine. 

Self-love,  in  every  degree  of  it,  is  neither  an  un- 
just nor  an  unamiable  affection.  It  is  then  only, 
when  it  degenerates  into  a  base  self-interest,  which 
would  serve  itself  at  the  expense  of  others,  that  it 
becomes  the  object  of  indignation  or  of  censure : 
while  it  is  merely  confined  to  what  respects  our  own 
real  interests,  and  neither  neglects  nor  interferes 
with  the  interests  of  others,  it  is  natural  in  its  opera- 
tions, reasonable  in  itself,  and  deserving  of  appro- 
bation. Of  self-love,  it  is  the  necessary  conse- 
quence, that  we  should  love  those,  by  whom  we  are 
beloved.  If  any  one  contribute  to  the  gratification 
of  our  wishes,  for  the  very  same  reason  that  we 
desire  these  wishes  to  be  gratified,  we  love  him  who 
gratifies  them.  If  any  person  do  us  good,  for  the 
very  same  reason,  that  we  love  ourselves,  and  de- 
light in  our   enjoyments,  we   love   and  delight  in 


168         On  the  Obligation,  the  Importance,  and 

that  person :  if  then  we  know  God,  and  attend  to 
this  important  truth,  that  not  a  being  in  the  universe 
possesses  any  power  but  what  was  originally  de- 
rived from  him,  and  is  even  during  every  succeeding 
moment  supplied  from  that  eternal  fountain  ;  if  we 
reflect,  that,  by  whatever  means  we  become  pos- 
sessed of  them,  all  the  blessings  we  enjoy,  do,  in 
very  deed,  come  down  from  "the  father  of  lights;" 
from  God,  "  the  only  giver  of  every  good,  and  of 
every  perfect  gift;"  if  we  know  assuredly,  that  our 
capacities  of  enjoyment,  as  well  as  the  various  bles- 
sings which  are  the  subjects  of  them,  proceed  from 
God;  what  reason  have  we  not  to  delight  our- 
selves in  him,  and  in  his  laws,  and  to  embrace  him 
with  the  chief  and  first  affection  of  our  lirarts  ?  It 
is  because  we  have  obtained  help  of  God,  that  we 
continue  hitherto ;  it  is  under  the  shadow  of  his 
wiags,  that  we  dwell  in  safety.  The  daily  sup- 
plies of  life  proceed  from  his  unwearied  bounty  ;  all 
the  comforts  that  we  have  in  ourselves,  or  in  our 
friends,  flow  from  the  God  of  all  consolation. 

He  has  but  to  speak  the  word,  yea,  he  has  but 
to  withdraw  his  arm,  and  our  resources  fail  us,  our 
hopes  are  blasted,  and  our  blessings  vanish.  It  is 
but  for  a  few  particles  of  matter  to  change  their 
disposition,  and  they  are  changed  as  easily  as  the 
dust  is  scattered  by  the  wind;  it  is  but  for  such  a 
change  to  take  place,  and  we,  or  ours,  go  down  in 
a  moment  to  the  grave.  They  have  but  to  take 
another  turn,  and  more  terrible  calamities  nmy 
overwhelm  us ;  our  tranquillity,  or  that  of  our 
friends,  may  be  converted  intohorrour;  our  ease, 
into  agony  ;  the  lamp  of  reason  may  be  utterly 
extinguished;  the  wildest  imaginations  may  riot  in 
our  minds,  the   most  distressful  thoughts  may  seize 


the  Reasonableness  of  the  Love  of  God.  169 

them,  and  abide  with  them;  and  even  all  the  joys 
of  a  good  conscience,  as  well  as  the  light  of  an  im- 
proved understanding,  may  be  totally  overborne. 

And  owe  you  nothing  then  to  his  guardian  care, 
who  with  Diore  than  a  parent's  tenderness  watches 
over,  defends,  and  preseives  you  from  thtse,  and 
a  thousand  other  evils  ?  Owe  you  nothing  to  that 
liberal  hand,  without  which  you  had  not  been  fed 
from  day  to  day,  and  without  which,  your  habi- 
tation every  night  might  prove  your  grave  ? 

Compare,  my  friends,  your  blessings  with  your 
merit;  did  he  owe  it  to  your  obedience  to  love 
you  thus  ?  Did  he  owe  it  to  your  services  to  i-ake 
such  liberal  provision  for  your  comfort  ?  Wnat 
says  your  heart  ?  what  does  your  conscience  say  ? 
Do  they  require  it  of  you  to  distinguish  your  be- 
nelaciors,  in  proportion  as  you  have  been  distin- 
guished by  them  in  their  good  affections  and  good 
offices  ?  and  will  your  heart  and  your  conscience 
hold  you  guiltless,  if  your  first,  your  supreme — I 
was  going  to  have  said,  your  sole  benefactor,  have 
no  place  in  your  affections?" 

Go  then  and  give  unto  your  mortal  friends,  the 
love  that  is  justly  their  due ;  render  unto  your 
patrons  and  benefactors  the  gratitude  they  may 
reasonably  expect  from  you  ;  repay  your  parents, 
with  an  affection,  as  sincere  and  tender,  as  that 
with  which  they  have  nourished  and  cherished 
you  ;  but  remember,  that  they  and  all  their  kind- 
ness were  the  gift  of  God  ;  that  to  him  you  are 
indebted  for  every  pleasurable  sentiment,  every 
sensation  of  delight  and  joy  ;  and  then  declpte,  if 
it  be  not  a  duty  of  indispensable  obligation,  to  k<ep 
his   statutes,   to   obey    his   commandments,    and   to 


170        On  the  ObligatioUy  the  Importance,  and 

love  him  with  all  your  heart,  and  soul,  and  mind, 
and  strength  ? 

These  reflections  it  were  easy  to  amplify  and 
enlarge,  but  enough,  it  is  hoped  has  been  advanc- 
ed to  convince  you.  that  the  love  of  God  is  not  a 
blind  inexplicable  principle,  proceeding  we  know 
not  whence,  and  tending  we  know  not  whither, 
and  consisting  in  we  know  not  what ;  it  is  not  an 
unaccountable  attraction  ;  it  is  not  an  unenlighten- 
ed glow  of  heart;  it  is  not  the  overflowing  of  a 
sensual  joy  ;  it  is  not  the  ecstacy  of  a  mysterious 
devotion  ;  it  is  nothing  above  the  capacity  of  all 
men  to  understand,  or  above  the  power  of  all  men 
to  attain ;  nothing  contrary  to,  or  surpassing  hu- 
man nature  :  it  needs  not  to  hide  itself  for  fear  of 
disgrace,  for  it  has  no  connexion  with  the  perver- 
sion of  any  human  principle  ;  but,  on  the  contrary, 
it  is  in  the  depraved  heart  alone  that  it  cannot  sub- 
sist :  it  has  no  dependence  on  ignorance  or  dark- 
ness; on  the  contrary,  it  is  only  from  true  and  im- 
portant knowledge  that  it  can  proceed. 

The  love  of  God  is  one  of  the  most  natural  op- 
erations of  the  human  heart,  the  most  obvious  and 
self-approved  direction  of  its  sentiments;  for  it  is 
to  admire,  what  is  perceived  to  be  truly  admira- 
ble ;  to  esteem,  what  is  infinitely  worthy  to  be  es- 
teemed ;  and  to  cherish  in  our  hearts  with  com- 
placency and  delight,  the  idea  of  what  confessedly 
deserves  our  supreme  affection:  it  is,  to  cultivate 
a  grateful  sense  of  kindness  that  exceeds  our 
tenderest  thoughts,  and  of  beneficence  that  passeth 
knowledore. — To  be  devoid  of  the  love  of  God,  not 
only  betiays  an  unnatural  opposition  to  the  dic- 
tates of  self-love,  and  of  charity  ;  but  also  to  that 
other  powerful  and  amiable  principle,  by  whatever 


the  Reasonableness  of  the  Love  of  God.  171 

uarae  you  call  it,  which  recommends  all  moral  good- 
ness  to  our  hearts.  It  implies  a  strarij^e  insensibility 
to  our  own  happiness,  to  the  happiness  of  our 
brethren,  and  to  the  noblest  obligations  ;  a  ciiminal 
prostitution  of  our  affections,  and  a  perverseness 
and  inconsistency  of  character,  alike  wretched,  de- 
plorable, and  guilty. 

If  then,  my  friends,  there  be  in  you  any  spark  of 
that  nature,  which  God  gave  you,  unextingjuishcd  ; 
if  there  be  in  you  any  characters  and  principles  of 
reason;  if  there  yet  remains  in  you  a  wish  to  ap- 
prove yourselves  to  conscience,  and  to  enjoy  the 
approbation  of  your  own  minds;  maintain  the 
noble  privilege  of  your  species,  for  man  only,  among 
all  the  inhabitants  of  this  world,  is  capable  of 
loving  God.  Maintain  the  honour  of  your  charac- 
ter; it  shines  most  illustriously  in  the  honour  you 
render  to  your  Maker.  Reasonable  and  moral 
beings  you  were  made,  you  were  formed  with 
principles  that  might  assimilate  you  to  God  ;  that 
might  direct  your  thoughts  and  affections  towards 
heaven,  and  the  great  King  of  heaven  :  the  prin- 
ciples that  God  implanted  in  you,  tend  to  unite 
your  hearts  to  him,  to  preserve  you  from  corrup- 
tion, to  purify  you  from  pollution,  to  raise  you  to 
the  honour  of  unblemished  righteousness;  to  pre- 
pare you  for  the  happiness  of  loving  him,  and  of 
being  beloved  by  him,  and  for  the  immortal  glories 
of  his  presence. 

This,  O  man,  is  the  dignity  for  which  thy  nature 
is  intended,  and  which  is  prepared  for  it  of  God. 
Suffer  not  this  honour  to  be  tarnished,  or  to  die 
away  ;  suffer  not  this  glory  to  sink  from  shame  to 
shame,  till  at  last,  in  the  complete  depravity  of  thy 
soul,   the  love  of  God  be  utterly  extinguished  :   but 


172       On  the  Obligation,   the  Importance,   and 

cherish,  with  unwearied  care,  every  principle  that 
leads  to  so  glorious  a  distinction  ;  to  so  just,  so  bless- 
ed an   affection. 


PRAYER. 

Worthy  art  thou,  O  Lord,  to  receive  salvation, 
and  blessing,  and  praise,  for  all  things  are  thine; 
thou  madest  them  in  perfect  wisdom,  and  thou 
rulest  them  in  perfect  love.  The  eyes  of'all  wait 
upon  thee,  and  thou  givest  them  their  meat  in  due 
season;  thou  openest  thine  hand,  and  eatisfiest  the 
desires  of  every  living  thing.  We,  the  creatures  of 
thy  power,  and  the  dependents  of  thy  providence, 
feel  and  acknowledo-e  ourselves  bound  bv  ten 
thousand  obligations,  to  fear,  to  love,  to  serve,  and 
to  honour  thee  ;  to  inquire  into  thy  mind  and  will, 
with  care,  and  diligence,  and  to  keep  thy  precepts 
with  alacrity  and  zeal.  Lord,  when  we  meditate 
upon  thy  kindnesses  and  benefits,  which  have  been 
ever  growing,  with  the  growing  moments  of  our 
being,  and  at  the  same  time  reflect  upon  the  cold- 
ness of  our  devout  affections;  on  the  languor,  the 
reluctance,  and  the  manifold  imperfections  of  our 
obedience  ;  when  we  compare  thy  mercies  which 
never  fail,  with  that  goodness  of  ours,  which  is  as 
the  morning  cloud  and  the  early  dew,  that  soon 
passeth  away,  we  are  ashamed  and  confounded  in 
thy  presence,  and  what  can  we  say  unto  thee,  O 
thou  observer  of  men  ? — Our  un worthiness  cannot 
be  unknown  to  thee,  for  whither  could  we  go  from 
thy  spirit,  or  whither  could  we  flee  from  thy  pre- 
sence .'^  What  night  is  there  so  dark,  or  what  shades 
of  death  so  deep,  as  to  hide  our  transgressions  from 
thine  all-pervading  eye  ! 


the  Reasonableness  of  the  Love   of  God.       173 

Thou  knowest  every  sentiment  and  purpose  of 
our  souls  :  if  thou  seest  that  we  are  duly  humbled 
under  the  sense  of  our  past  insensibihty  and  ingra- 
titude, help  thou  our  infirmities,  and  enable  us 
henceforth  to  serve  thee  with  a  zeal,  bearing  some 
proportion  to  the  extent  of  our  obligations,  and  to 
love  thee  with  all  our  heart,  and  soul,  and  mind, 
and  strength. 


12 


DISCOURSE    IX. 

ON    THE    CARE    AND    DILIGENCE     REQUIRED    TO 

PRESERVE,    AND    KEEP    ALIVE    THE 

LOVE    OP    GOD. 


JUDE     21. 

Keep  yourselres  in  the  love  of  God. 

Reasonable  as  it  is  in  itself,  and  most  important  to 
our  own  happiness  and  to  the  preservation  of  our 
virtue,  that  we  should  love  the  Lord  our  God,  with 
all  our  heart,  and  mind,  and  strength,  the  text  plainly 
implies,  that  there  may  be  some  difficulty  in  pre- 
serving and  cultivating  this  divine  affection.  It  may 
be  useful  therefore  to  inquire,  from  what  causes  this 
difficulty  proceeds,  and  by  what  means  and  methods 
it  may  best  be  overcome.  And  here  vy^e  may  ob- 
serve, that, 

The  habit  of  attending  to  things  visible  and  invisi- 
ble, and  of  pursuing  them  as  important  objects  of  our 
wishes  and  desires,  in  proportion  to  the  vigour  it 
may  add  to  the  influence  of  such  objects  on  our 
hearts,  will,  in  the  same  proportion,  diminish  the 
influence  of  such  as  are  purely  spiritual ;  these,  from 
their  very  nature,  are  ever  wont  to  escape  the  no- 
tice of  the  mind,  and  even,  when  our  attention  to 
them  is  once  awakened,  without  great  care  and  dili- 
gence, they  easily,  and  almost  without  our  observation 
slide  out  of  it  again.  The  impressions  of  external 
things,  which  are  constantly  operating  upon  us,  even 


On  the  Care  and  Diligence  required,  &c.        1 75 

if  they  are  not  the  objects  of  our  most  ardent  pur- 
suit, presently  displace  the  impressions  of  such  ob- 
jects, as  require  the  exertion  of  our  attention  and 
resolution  to  apprehend  and  retain  them  in  view  :  it 
is  only  therefore,  by  a  deep  and  continued  attention, 
that  any  vivid  affections  concerning  spiritual  objects 
can  be  kept  alive  in  our  hearts.  That  attention 
however,  to  a  mind  not  long  habituated  to  it,  is  a 
painful  and  laborious  effort.     Again, 

The  very  means  by  which  the  love  of  God  must 
make  its  impression,  are  themselves  capable  of  ex- 
cluding it  from  our  hearts,  and  instead  of  leading  us 
to  him,  of  engrossing  our  affection  and  attention  to 
themselves.  The  works  of  God,  the  laws  and 
events  of  providence,  and  even  the  word  of  God 
itself,  are  all  capable  of  exciting  in  us  many  different 
sentiments,  besides  the  love  of  him  ;  sentiments  that 
have  no  connexion  with  it ;  and  that,  in  some  instan- 
ces, are  even  repugnant  to  it. 

We  may  gaze  upon  the  works  of  nature,  and  be 
highly  entertained  with  the  views  that  they  exhibit 
to  us ;  we  may  attend  to  the  course  of  providence, 
and  be  deeply  affected  by  the  various  scenes  through 
which  we  pass  ;  we  may  have  the  word  of  God  every 
morning  and  every  evening  in  our  hands,  and  yet,  for 
all  this,  the  love  of  God  may  be  a  stranger  to  our 
hearts — a  stranger  there  it  will  be,  if,  whilst  we  are 
conversing  with  his  word,  his  providence,  and  his 
works,  we  have  it  not  in  our  intention  and  desire  to 
conceive  and  to  cultivate  this  affection.  Each  of 
them  present  a  variety  of  objects  in  every  scene  that 
they  set  before  us,  capable  of  exciting  a  variety  of 
affections:  and  unless,  whilst  we  contemplate  this 
variety,  our  attention  be  particularly  and  expressly 
directed  to  the  display  manifested  by  them  of  those 
attributes  of  God,  which  render  him  the  object  of 


176  On  the  Care  and  Diligence  required 

our  admiration  and  love,  our  minds  will  be  divert- 
ed from  one  object  to  another,  and  distracted  by 
a  succession  of  very  different  impressions  and  af- 
fections. 

To  love  God,  we  must  have  lively  apprehensions 
of  his  excellencies,  and  to  attain  these,  oui  attention 
must  not  spend  itself  on  those  sensible  and  external 
things  which  comprehend  the  notices  of  them  ;  it 
must  not  be  wasted  on  the  mirror,  it  must  look  upon 
the  image  it  contains  ;  it  must  not  be  diverted  by 
any  foreign  object,  but  fixed  and  regulated  by  the 
sincere  desire,  and  the  express  intention  to  possess 
our  hearts  with  the  love  of  God.  And,  after  all,  to 
whatever  degree  of  vivacity  this  affection  may  be 
raised  by  the  power  of  serious  contemplation,  it  will 
quickly  need  to  be  revived  again.  It  is  a  plant  too 
delicate  not  to  stand  in  need  of  constant  and  unwea- 
ried tendance,  and  perhaps,  with  all  our  care,  it  may 
b3  impossible  in  this  world  that  it  should  at  all  times 
be  preserved  in  equal  health  and  vigour.  Yet,  the 
influence  of  the  love  of  God  upon  our  temper  and 
conduct,  may  be,  and  ought  to  be  habitual.  To 
render  them  habitual  however,  it  is  necessary  that 
the  impressions  of  the  divine  excellencies  should  from 
time  to  time  be  renewed  upon  our  hearts  ;  that  the 
affection  should  from  time  to  time  be  rekindled 
there,  and  that  the  intervals  of  renewing  and  rekind- 
ling these  impressions  and  affections,  should  not  be 
too  distant. 

Though  the  effects  of  any  sentiment  upon  our 
temper  and  conduct  may  remain  after  the  senti- 
ment itself  has  subsided  in  our  hearts,  yet  these 
effects  will  be  impaired  by  the  power  of  time  alone  ; 
and  the  succession  of  other  sentiments  will  assist 
the  power    of  time    to    impair  them.     The    influ- 


to  preserve,  and  keep  alive  the  Love  of  God.         \7T 

ences  of  any  affection  whatever,  which  survive  the 
affection  itself,  will  be  in  proportion,  not  only  to 
the  vivacity  in  which  the  affection  is  conceived, 
but  also  to  the  frequency  with  which  it  is  cherished 
and  revived. 

They  who  are  best  acquainted  with  the  love  of 
God,  in  whose  hearts  it  is  most  familiar,  and  over 
whose  lives  it  has  most  power,  can  tell  you,  how 
much  this  sentiment,  and  the  salutaiy  influences  of 
it,  are  liable  to  suffer  from  the  cares  of  this  woild  ; 
even  from  the  necessary  avocations  and  the  indispen- 
sable business  of  life.  They  can  tell  you,  how  this 
affection  needs  to  be  refreshed  from  day  to  day,  by 
serious  conversation  with  the  works,  the  providence, 
and  the  word  of  God.  They  can  tell  you,  what 
power  it  derives  by  withdrawing  from  the  cares  and 
influences  of  the  world,  to  attend  upon  the  ordinan- 
ces of  religion  ;  and  they  can  tell  you  too,  how  ne- 
cessary a  devout  and  habitual  attendance  is,  not  only 
to  its  improvement,  but  even  to  its  preservation. 
With  all  their  solicitude  and  care,  they  do  not  boast 
of  its  vivacity  and  power;  they  regret  the  interrup- 
tions that  it  often  suffers,  and  the  weakness  in  which 
it  often  languishes:  their  comfort  is,  that  God 
knows  their  frame  and  their  condition,  that  they 
can  appeal  to  him  for  their  sincerity,  and  trust  his 
mercy  as  to  their  imperfection.  If,  then,  we  are 
really  desirous  that  the  love  of  God  should  retain 
its  due  influence,  we  must,  in  the  first  place,  exert  a 
constant  vigilance  to  guard  against  the  various  un- 
friendly influences  of  the  many  diflbrent  objects  by 
whicli  we  are  surrounded,  and  of  the  various  occu- 
pations in  which  we  are  necessarily  engaged.  But 
this  is  not  all  ,•  for, 

In  the   second  place,  it  is  of  the  utmost  impor- 
tance that  we  should  sedulously  endeavour  to   re- 


If 8  On  the    Care  and   Diligence  required 

press  every  evil  inclination,  and  to  preserve  our 
souls  an  unpolluted  temple  for  the  residence  of 
the  living  God.  And  to  this  end,  we  must  labour 
to  employ  our  thoughts  in  such  salutary  medita- 
tions, as,  by  convincing  us  of  the  baseness,  the 
malignity,  the  ignominy,  and  the  wretchedness  of 
sin,  shall  establish  us  in  the  perfect  detestation 
of  it;  as  well  as  in  that  wholesome  self-discipline 
that  may  reduce  every  rebellious  passion,  and  re- 
store those  principles,  in  which  our  likeness  unto 
God  consists,  to  their  just  authority  in  our  hearts  ; 
not,  however,  suspending  any  of  those  religious 
exercises,  the  immediate  tendency  of  which  is  to 
awaken  in  us  the  sentiments  of  divine  love,  until 
this  object  be  completely  accomplished  ;  for,  if 
by  any  means,  the  love  of  God  can  be  lighted  up, 
and  kept  alive  within  our  hearts,  it  will  be  found 
one  of  the  most  powerful  instruments  to  rescue 
us  from  the  bondage  of  evil  habit,  to  fortify  us 
against  the  power  of  temptation,  and  to  establish 
us  in  the  glorious  liberty  of  the  children  of  God. 
It  is  not  therefore,  either  necessary,  or  advisable, 
that  we  should  neglect  to  cultivate  this  blessed 
principle  till  all  inconsistent  principles  be  remov- 
ed; but,  as  the  prevalence  of  iniquity  will  obstruct 
the  progress  of  the  love  of  God,  and  render  even 
the  preservation  of  it  extremely  difficult,  it  will  be 
our  wisdom  to  call  in  every  other  principle  and 
exercise  of  our  understandings  and  our  hearts,  that 
may  succour  and  befriend  it.  And  in  this  view, 
the  fear  of  God  may  co-operate,  and  be  made  sub- 
servient to  establish  and  improve  the  love  of  God. 
For,  when  we  consider  him,  not  only  as  hating 
iniquity,  but  as  preparing  the  scourge  of  chas- 
tisement even  in  this  world,  for  all  unrighteous- 
ness; and  contemplate  the  approach  of  that  awful 
day   which   shall  consign  the    ungodly   and  sinner 


to  preserve^  and  keep  alive  the  Love  of  God.    179 

to  wrath,  tribulation,  and  despair  in  that  which 
is  to  come;  we  are  furnished  with  additional  aids, 
to  effect  an  easier  and  speedier  reformation  of 
whatever  is  wrong  in  our  temper  and  conduct. 

Many  bonds  of  union  might  be  traced  between 
these  two  greatest  and  most  active  principles  of 
religion.  What  has  been  said,  however,  maj  suf- 
fice to  show,  that  whatever  tends  to  break  our  at- 
tachment unto  vice,  of  whatever  kind  ;  whatever 
tends  to  restrain  our  inordinate  desires;  whatever 
tends  to  abash  our  evil  inclinations,  does  at  the 
same  time  tend  to  promote  the  power,  and  to  fa- 
cilitate the  operations  of  divine  love,  in  the  conflict 
which  it  must  necessarily  maintain,  if  it  be  pure  and 
genuine,  against  every  thing  that  is  inconsistent 
with  truth  and  virtue. 

But,  in  the  third  and  last  place;  it  is  of  especial 
importance  if  we  be  seriously  desirous  of  preserv- 
ing and  cultivating  the  love  of  God,  to  beware 
of  an  earthly  mind.  We  cannot  serve  God  and 
Mammon. 

To  the  worldly-minded  man,  gain  is  godliness  ; 
it  so  busily  engages  his  thoughts,  so  perfectly  sa- 
tisfies his  low  desires  and  narrow  wishes,  that  he 
perceives  no  need,  and  perhaps  can  scarcely  con- 
ceive an  idea  of  any  happiness  beyond  this,  or  be- 
sides it.  By  what  means  shall  such  a  groveling 
spirit  be  raised  to  just  conceptions,  and  delight- 
ful sentiments  of  God  ?  What  can  such  a  man 
discern  to  allure  his  thoughts  or  engage  his  affec- 
tions in  that  liberality,  that  overflowing  goodness 
of  the  Almighty,  which,  whilst  it  admonishes  him 
that  it  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive,  re- 
bukes,  at    the   same  time,   with  so  Ciuch  seventy. 


180  On  the  Care  and  Diligence  required 

his  own  principles  and  temper  ?  As  far  indeed 
as  he  is  interested  in  this  liberality,  and  actually 
benefited  by  it,  he  may  possibly  conceive  something 
like  the  sentiments  of  religious  gratitude  and  joy  : 
yet.  ifyou  consider  how  natural  it  is  for  such  a  cha- 
racter to  be  wholly  engrossed  by  what  he  already 
has,  or  wishes  to  obtain ;  to  regard  all  he  possesses, 
merely  as  the  fruit  of  his  own  ingenuity,  care,  or 
industry,  you  will  not  readily  suspect  him  of  so 
much  infidelity  to  the  idol  deity  he  worships,  as 
either  ardently  or  frequently  to  lift  up  his  soul  unto 
Him,  who  is  the  great  and  sole  giver  of  every  good, 
and  every  perfect  gift. 

The  love  of  God,  like  the  word  of  God,  can 
neither  thrive  nor  live  among  the  weeds  of  world- 
liness  ;  though  the  seed  be  sown,  though  it  begin 
to  vegetate  and  open,  yet  the  soil  is  too  shallow 
for  it  to  strike  root  ;  it  will  be  devoured  by  the 
vultures  of  earthly  passions,  or  scorched  and 
withered  by  the  heat  of  base,  ungovernable,  and 
envious  desires.  If  then,  so  base  a  principle  as 
that  of  worldliness  has  got  root  within  our  hearts, 
let  us  pluck  it  up  with  unrelenting  indignation.  If 
our  hearts  are  happily  uninfected  by  it,  sensible  of 
its  infamy,  of  its  danger,  and  irreconcileable  incon- 
sistenry  with  the  nobler  principles  of  our  uncor- 
rupted  nature,  and  our  Christian  calling,  with  the 
love  of  God,  and  all  those  great  and  glorious  and 
blest  affections  that  accompany  it,  that  flow  from  it, 
and  are  nourished  by  it;  sensible  of  its  inconsisten- 
cy with  all  that  can  adorn  our  characters  on  earth, 
or  prepare  our  souls  for  heaven ;  let  us  keep  our 
hearts  with  all  diligence  ;  let  us  walk  circumspect- 
ly, lest  we  fall  into  the  snares  of  this  world ;  let  us 
walk  vigilantly,  lest  by  its  seducing  blandishments, 
it  insinuate  itself  into  our  affections  ;  let  us  study  to 


1^ 


lo  preserve,  and  keep  alive  the  Love  of  God.    181 

attain  just  notions  of  its  value  in  itself,  and  of  its 
importance  unto  us. 

Are  the  possessions  of  the  world,  the  posses- 
sions of  the  soul  ?  Do  they  infalliblj  carry  with 
them  comfort  and  delight  ?  Are  they  capable  of 
being  enjoyed  in  all  the  circumstances,  do  they  re- 
main unaltered  through  all  the  vicissitudes  of  life  ? 
Are  they  stable  and  secure  ;  proof  against  all  dan- 
gers, subject  to  no  violence,  liable  to  no  change  or 
revolution?  While  they  soothe  one  principle  of 
our  nature,  do  they  no  violence  or  injury  to  any 
other  ?  While  they  flatter,  do  they  never  wound 
us?  While  they  gratify,  do  they  never  mortify  our 
souls?  While  they  smile  and  promise  fair,  do  they 
never  disappoint  us  with  sudden  frowns,  and  be- 
tray us  into  vain  distresses?  Are  they  as  desirable 
for  their  consequences,  as  for  themselves  ?  Whilst 
they  possess  the  mind,  exclude  they  not  thence  any 
other  valuable  enjoyment?  Are  they  attainable  , by 
all  ?  Are  one  man's  acquisitions  of  them,  no  ob- 
struction to  the  interests  of  another,  no  cause  of 
discontent,  no  object  of  jealousy  or  envy?  These, 
my  brethren,  are  properties  that  by  no  means  be- 
long to  this  world,  its  possessions,  and  felicities; 
they  are,  for  the  most  part,  the  noble,  and  the  pre- 
cious characteristicks  of  those  good  affections,  of 
that  approving  conscience,  of  those  spiritual  joys 
and  celestial  treasures,  which  alone  are  worthy  of 
the  warm  desires  and  pursuit  of  a  moral  and  im- 
mortal being  ;  in  which,  true  riches  and  honour  alone 
consist,  and  without  which,  whatever  else  you  have, 
and  whatever  else  you  are,  you  can  neither  be  hap- 
py, safe,  nor  easy. 

What  a   portion  is   this  world's   goods,  for  a  mo- 
ral, an   intellectual,  and  an  immortal    being^,  made 

13 


182  On  the  Care  and  Diligence  required 

in  the  Divine  Imaoje,  and  capable  of  partaking  in 
the  glories  of  a  Divine  Nature  !  What  folly  does 
it  argue,  what  a  wretched  choice,  what  an  abject 
taste,  to  take  up  our  rest  on  earth,  when  the  gates 
of  heaven  are  thrown  open  to  us !  To  content 
ourselves  with  a  low,  an  insincere,  and  short-lived 
happiness,  when  pure,  sublime,  and  everlasting  joys 
are  set  before  us!  What  a  wretch  is  that,  who  can 
delight  to  grovel  with  the  insect  in  the  dust,  when 
with  Angels  he  might  soar  into  the  presence,  and 
aspire  unto  the  friendship  of  his  Maker  !  How  un- 
worthy is  he  even  of  that  happiness  which  this  world 
can  give,  who  is  capable  of  resting  in  it  as  his  end, 
the  completion  of  his  wishes,  and  the  satisfaction  of 
his  desires  ! 

But  what  is  the  happiness  that  this  world  can 
give  ?  Can  it  defend  us  from  disasters  ?  Can  it  pro- 
tect us  from  diseases  ?  Can  it  preserve  our  hearts 
from  grief,  our'  eyes  from  tears,  or  our  feet  fiom 
falling?  Can  it  prolong  our  conjforts  ?  Can  it  mul- 
tiply our  days?  Can  it  redeem  ourselves  or  our 
friends  from  death  ?  Can  it  soothe  the  king  of  ter- 
rours;  or  mitigate  the  agonies  of  dying?  Can  it 
deliver  us  from  the  bondage  of  iniquity  ;  cleanse  us 
from  the  pollutions  of  guilt;  or  ease  our  burdened 
consciences  ?  Can  it  restore,  or  sanctifv  the  mind 
that  we  have  depraved  ?  Can  it  purchase  for  us  a 
favourable  issue  in  the  day  of  final  retribution,  and 
insure  to  us  an  honourable  portion,  and  happy  set- 
tlement in  the  unchangeable  and  eternal  world?  If 
not,  wherefore  is  it  so  high  in  our  esteem  ?  If  it 
be  so  weak,  and  impotent,  and  vain,  if  it  have  so 
little  influence  on  our  most  mon.entous  interests, 
both  in  this  life,  and  in  another,  why  does  it  lie 
so  close  unto  our  hearts?  Why  should  it  light  up 
such  keen  desires,  and  create  such  invincible  at- 
tachments ?  When  my  conscience  is  oppressed  with 


to  preserve,  and  keep  alive  the  Love  of  God.     183 

guilt ;  when  I  am  alarmed  with  the  apprehension  of  a 
future  reckoning,  what  is  the  world  to  me  ?  What 
comfort,  or  what  hope  can  it  administer  ?  When  my 
conscience  bears  testimony  to  my  integrity  and  virtue; 
when  my  hopes  of  a  future  recompense  are  just  and 
lively — what  is  the  world  to  me  ?  What  need  I  from 
it?  What  want  I  of  its  consolations?  When  my  heart 
is  torn  with  grief,  or  oppressed  with  melancholy  ; 
when  my  limbs  are  racked  with  pain,  or  my  bod}  lan- 
guishing in  sickness,  what  is  the  world  to  me  ?  That 
my  habitation  is  splendid,  that  my  roof  is  gilded, 
that  my  dependents  are  not  a  few%  and  my  treasure 
not  a  little,  does  this  afford  me  any  mitigation  of  my 
anguish  ?  When  the  period  of  life  has  overtaken 
me,  and  the  awful  messenger  of  death  has  read  me 
the  summons  of  my  departure  out  of  it»  what  is 
the  world  to  me  ?  When  1  lie  upon  a  dying  bed, 
watching  my  ebbifig  life,  expecting  every  breath 
to  be  my  last,  and  waiting  for  that  solemn  moment, 
when  the  world  invisible  shall  open  on  my  soul, 
what  is  this  world  to  me  ? 

Anticipate  that  solemn  moment ;  it  will  be  with 
you  in  reality  ere  long.  Place  yourselves  on  the 
verge  of  time,  imagine  that  your  course  is  finished, 
that  your  glass  is  run  out ;  and  from  the  margin  of 
eternity,  look  at  the  approaching  and  at  the  reced- 
ing world  :  how  vast,  how  sudden,  how  inexpres- 
sible a  change  in  your  conceptions  and  affections! 
how  much  is  the  one  world  magnified  ;  the  other, 
bow  much  diminished  in  your  view !  Arrived  at 
such  a  period,  things  seen  and  temporal,  all  that 
we  possessed,  and  all  that  we  wished  for  upon 
earth,  shrink  into  vanity  and  nothing:  things  spiri- 
tual and  invisible,  all  that  we  esteemed  so  lightly, 
and  neglected  so  unreasonably  in  the  moral  and 
eternal  worlds,  swell  into  infinite  importance,  and 
appear  to  us  all  in  all.     How  insignificant  are  the 


184  On  the  Care  and  Diligence  required 

possessions  that  lately  were  so  much  prized,  and 
in  which  we  so  much  vaunted  !  How  cool  and  lan- 
guid the  desires  that  lately  were  so  fervent  and  so 
restless  !  How  indifferent  our  regards  to  this  world, 
which  lately  were  so  cordial  and  sincere ! 

Why  am  I  so  enamoured  of  a  vapour,  that  ap- 
peareth  but  for  a  little  while  ;  of  a  vapour,  on 
which  before  it  perisheth,  my  eyes  may  be  for  ever 
closed  ?  A  stranger  and  pilgrim  upon  earth,  why 
should  ray  treasures  and  my  heart  be  fixed,  where 
my  days  are  as  a  shadow,  gliding  hastily,  constant- 
ly, and  incessantly  away?  Hurried  as  I  am  down 
the  stream  of  time,  shall  I  set  my  heart  on  the  fad- 
ing flowers,  that  grow  upon  its  banks  ?  No,  I  must 
not  be  so  injurious  to  myself;  I  must  not  be  so  un- 
grateful to  my  Maker.  The  creature  must  not 
hold  the  Creators  place  in  my  esteem.  The  world 
must  not  banish  God  from  ray  heart.  Eternity 
must  not  be  sacrificed  to  the  little  interests  of 
time. 

Cease  then,  thou  momentary  world  !  cease,  ye 
seducing  vanities,  flatter  us  no  more  with  your 
oflowinof  colours,  and  seductive  smiles.  Peace, 
ye  disturbers  of  our  rest !  Peace,  ye  vara  imagina- 
tions, why  are  you  so  busily  employed  to  give  the 
world  a  false  importance,  to  set  it  forth  in  falla- 
cious visions,  to  divert  our  souls  from  God,  and  to 
rob  our  Creator  of  our  hearts  ?  Let  the  living  God 
be  our  portion  and  our  stay  ;  let  heaven  be  our 
home  and  aim;  let  us  not  despise,  yet  let  us  not 
overvalue  this  present  world  ;  let  us  bless  our  JVia- 
ker  for  its  comforts,  while  we  pray  to  him  to  pre- 
serve us  from  its  snares.  "Love  not  the  world, 
neither  the  things  that  are  in  the  world.  If  any 
man  love  the  world,  the  love  of  the  father  is  not 
in  him ;  for  all  that  is  in  the  world,  the  lust  of  the 


to  preserve^  and  keep  alive  the  Love  of  God.      185 

flesh,  the  hist  of  the  eyes,  and  the  pride  of  hfe,  is 
not  of  the  father,  but  is  of  the  world  ;  and  the 
world  passeth  away  and  the  lusts  thereof,  but  he 
that  doeth  the  will  of  God,  abideth  for  ever." 


PRAYER. 

Holy,  holy,  holy,  Lord  God  Almighty,  who 
art,  and  who  wast,  and  who  art  to  come  !  From 
everlasting  to  everlasting  thou  art  God,  the  same 
yesterday,  to-day,  and  for  ever !  Surrounded  as 
we  are  by  ten  thousand  objects  that  continually  so- 
licit our  attention,  interrupt  our  progress  in  spi- 
ritual attainments,  and  call  our  affections  off  from 
thee,  enable  us,  we  humbly  beseech  thee,  to  be 
ever  on  our  guard,  that  they. gain  not  the  dominion 
over  us;  that  they  overcome  not  that  love  to  thee, 
which  ought  ever  to  be  the  ruling  principle,  and 
which  constitutes  at  once,  our  duty  and  our  happi- 
ness ! 

The  time  we  know  is  short,  and  uncertain  as 
well  as  short,  may  we  therefore  use  the  world  as 
not  abusing  it,  knowing  that  the  fashion  thereof 
soon  passeth  away.— All  flesh  is  as  grass,  and  all 
the  beauty  thereof,  as  the  flower  of  the  grass, — 
the  grass  withereth  and  the  flower  fadeth,  but  the 
goodness  of  God  abideth  for  ever.  While  we  con- 
tinue steadfast  in  his  covenant,  we  are  peisuaded 
that  nothing  shall  ever  separate  us  from  the  love 
which  God  haih  to  us — O  may  nothing  ever  cool 
our  love  to  thee,  or  at  all  abate  our  diligence,  zeal, 
and  alacrity  in  thy  service  !  The  life  that  we  now 
live  in  the  flesh,  may  it  be  by  the  faith  of  the  son 
of  God ;  thereby  may  we  finally  overcome  the 
world,  and  be  piesented  faultless  before  the  throne 
of  thy  glory,  with  exceeding  joy. 


DISCOURSE    X. 


ON    THE    INCOMPATIBILITY    OF    THE    LOVE    OF 
PLEASURE,    WITH    THE  LOVE  OF    GOD. 


PART   I. 


II.    EPIST.    TO   TIMOTHY,    ili.    4. 

Lorers  of  Pleasure,  more  than  lovers  of  God. 

Devotion  is  by  no  means  the  characteristick  of  the 
age.  The  love  of  pleasure  is  one  of  its  most  strik- 
ing features ;  it  has  infected  every  rank  of  life  ;  it 
discovers  itself  upon  every  occasion  ;  we  meet  with 
evidences  of  it  in  every  district  and  in  every  street. 
Even  though  the  general  manners  were  not  advanc- 
ed so  far,  in  nominal  refinement,  but  in  real  depra- 
vation, as  that  men  were  already  become  lovers  of 
pleasure,  more  than  lovers  of  God  ;  yet,  whoever 
is  acquainted  with  the  allurements  of  pleasure,  and 
the  seducibility  of  man,  could  not  be  absolutely  free 
from  apprehension,  that  when  once  the  love  of  plea- 
sure is  become  the  fashion  of  the  times,  it  will  con- 
tinue and  even  prevail,  in  despite  of  the  most  vi- 
gorous efforts  of  the  friends  of  virtue  and  religion, 
to  subdue  or  to  restrain  it,  till  its  pernicious  conse- 
quences, by  inducing  general  calamity,  have  fully 
demonstrated  how  mischievous  and  ruinous  a  princi- 
ple it  is.     In  such  conjunctures,  though  we  cannot 


On  the  Incompatibility  of  the  Love,  &c.  187 

turn  the  torrent,  we  may  perhaps  do  something  to 
contract  its  ruinous  effects — we  ourselves  at  least 
may  step  aside  out  ol'  its  course,  and  may  have  the 
power,  perhaps,  of  taking  some  that  we  love  along 
with  us. 

In  the  following  Discourse  therefore,  it  is  my  in- 
tention to  show  you,  that  there  is  a  real  opposition 
between  the  love  of  pleasure  and  the  love  of  God. 
But  before  we  enter  upon  this  topick,  it  may  be  ne- 
cessary to  observe. 

In  the  first  place,  That  we  mean  not  to  affirm 
this  concerning  every  species  of  pleasure ;  and. 

In  the  second.  To  point  out  some  of  the  causes 
which  have  unavoidably  occasioned  considerable 
confusion  both  in  our  ideas  and  language  upon  this 
and  similar  subjects.     And 

First,  We  mean  not  to  affirm  this  concerning 
every  species  of  pleasure  ^  because  the  greater  our 
sensibility  to  moral  pleasures,  and  the  higher  our 
delight  in  them,  the  more  lively  and  the  more  pow- 
erful will  be  our  love  of  God.  Neither  would  we 
affirm  it  concerning  every  degree  of  the  love  of  plea- 
sure, in  any  meaning  of  the  term;  because  the  love 
of  pleasure  is  a  natural  principle,  made  necessary 
by  the  great  and  beneficent  Author  of  our  frame, 
not  only  to  our  well  being,  but  even  to  our  exist- 
ence. All  our  affections  are  implanted  in  us  by  the 
Author  of  nature,  and  are  then  only  vicious,  when 
they  are  perverted  to  those  objects  to  which  he  has 
not  directed  them  ;  or,  when  their  degree,  either 
through  excess  or  defect,  corresponds  not  with  the 
measure  of  those  qualities  in  any  object  by  which 
they  are  respectively  excited  :  and  it  is  only  in  some 


188         On  the  Incompatibility  of  the  Love  of 

or  other  of  these  circurastances,  that  they  become 
sinful  and  inconsistent  with  one  another.  While 
every  passion  of  our  hearts  is  directed  to  its  pro- 
per object,  and  continues  in  its  jubt  degree,  so  long 
the  gratification  of  them  is  practicable  and  consist- 
ent; they  encroach  not  upon  each  other,  and  none 
of  them  are  either  criminal  or  disgraceful. 

But,  in  the  second  place,  it  happens,  that  although 
we  have  names  for  many  of  our  affections,  signifi- 
cant of  their  general  nature,  significant  also  of 
the  affection  in  its  excess  or  its  defect;  yet,  in  very 
few  instances  are  we  provided  with  different  terms 
whereby  to  distinguish  it  when  indifferent,  neither 
laudable  nor  blameable,  from  the  same  affection  in 
its  excess,  in  which,  it  is  in  one  way  criminal,  or  in 
its  defect,  in  which  it  is  criminal  in  another  way. 
Pride,  and  anger,  are  two  censurable  passions  :  the 
one  being  the  excess  of  that  affection  that  is  natu- 
rally excited  by  the  consideration  of  what  is  wor- 
thy in  ourselves  ;  the  other,  the  excess  of  that  af- 
fection, which  insults  necessarily  awaken.  But,  for 
these  affections,  in  their  general  nature,  in  which 
they  are  indifferent ;  or  in  their  defect,  in  which 
they  are  faulty,  we  have  no  appropriate  terms.  If 
we  would  speak  of  them  accurately  and  usefully, 
we  must  describe  them  in  several  terms,  and  care- 
fully distinguish  them  from  pride  and  anger,  which 
are  the  names  only  of  the  excess. 

From  this  narrowness  of  language  arises  much 
confusion  in  our  ideas,  giving  birth  to  many  pre- 
judices, which,  in  their  effects  may  be  hurtful  to 
the  comfort,  and  even  to  the  good  conduct  of  life; 
and  hence  it  becomes  necessary,  to  attend  closely, 
and  distinguish  accurately,   when  either  the  nature, 


Pleasure,  with  the  Love  of  God.  ISO 

or  the  obligations  of  man,  are  the  subjects  of  our 
meditation  or  discourse. 

For  tha't  affection,  or  rather  for  that  class  of  af- 
fections which  we  comprehend  under  the  deno- 
mination of  the  love  of  pleasure,  we  have  only  this 
single  term  to  signify  its  general  nature;  we  have 
no  names  to  distino^uish  it  according:  to  the  diflferent 
objects  It  embraces,  nor  even  to  express  its  exces- 
ses or  defects.  Unless  we  enter  into  a  particular 
description  of  them,  we  have  nothing  but  this  gene- 
ral term  by  which  to  express  all  these  various  senti- 
ments, and  all  their  different  degrees.  But  it  is 
obvious,  that  with  regard  to  some  objects  of  delight, 
our  love  of  pleasure  cannot  be  criminally  weak, 
although  in  regard  to  others,  it  may  he  blameably 
defective  ;  in  lespect  to  some  sources  of  delight,  it 
is  not  probable,  it  is  not  perhaps  possible,  that  it 
should  run  into  excesses,  in  respect  of  others,  it  is 
very  prone  so  to  do;  and  there  is  hardly  any  class  of 
pleasures,  in  respect  of  which  there  is  not  some  de- 
gree of  affection  that  is  innocent,  because  natural 
and  unavoidable:  hence  it  follows,  that  what  is  true 
of  any  one  thing,  which  we  call  the  love  of  plea- 
sure, is  by  no  means  true  of  all  that  we  mean  at 
any  time  by  that  name. 

The  pleasures  spoken  of  by  the  Apostle,  be- 
tween which  and  the  love  of  God  we  proposed  to 
show  you  that  there  is  a  real  opposition,  are  those 
which  we  derive  from  sensible  and  external  objects. 
In  respect  of  these,  there  are  two  different  species 
of  the  love  of  pleasure,  which  although,  in  the 
higher  ranks  of  life  especially,  arc  often  combined, 
may  however,  subsist  apart,  and  when  they  do,  they 
constitute  two  difierent  characters;  the  one  pur- 
sues  the   gratifications   of  a   vain  imagination,  and 

14 


190  On  the  rncomputibility  of  the  Love  of 

forms  the  character  of  the  giddy  and  the  gay ;  the 
other,  the  gratification  of  the  inferiour  appetites, 
and  forms  the  character  of  the  carnal  and  debauch- 
ed. The  hearts  of  the  one,  are  in  scenes  of  dissi- 
pation and  amusement,  and  there  is  their  sove- 
reign enjoyment;  the  delight  and  desires  of  the 
other,  are  in  scenes  of  sensual  indulgence,  in  ma- 
king or  enjoying  the  provision  they  have  made, 
"for  the  flesh  to  fulfil  the  lusts  thereof." 

It  is  not  difficult  to  perceive,  that  there  is  a  real 
opposition  between  either  of  these  species  of  the 
love  of  pleasure  and  the  love  of  God  ;  for  in  the 
first  place,  it  is  obvious, 

That  it  is  the  natural  effect  of  both,  to  divert  the 
attention  of  the  mind  from  those  discoveries  of  God, 
out  of  which  the  love  of  him  must  take  its  rise. 

The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God,  and  the 
earth  is  full  of  the  riches  of  tlie  Lord ;  "  Day  unto 
day  uttereth  speech,  and  night  unto  night  teacheth 
us,"  how  worthy  he  is  of  our  affection.  The  se- 
date and  thoughtful  will  receive  these  lessons,  they 
will  feel  their  influence,  and  will  rejoice  from  day  to 
day  in  the  benignity  of  their  Maker.  God  deals  with 
bis  creatures  according  to  the  faculties  he  has  given 
them.  We  may  know  him  if  we  search  after  him, 
but  the  discoveries  he  makes  of  himself,  are  neither 
of  such  a  nature,  nor  made  in  such  a  maniiei',  as  to 
force  their  way  into  a  mind  indifferent  to  this  divine 
knowledge;  they  will  not  obtrude  themselves  upon 
us,  while  our  hearts  and  thoughts  are  em|  loyed 
upon  other  objects,  and  engrossed  by  very  different 
pursuits.  Our  religious  affections  depend  upon  our 
religious  knowledge;  and  both,  on  our  attention  and 
endeavours  to  obtain  them.     The  excellencies  of  an 


Pleasure,  wilh  the  Love  of  God.  191 

unknown  God  can  make  no  impression  on  our 
hearts;  neither  can  the  knowledge  of  God  be  ac- 
quired, or  improved,  in  scenes  of  vanity  and  dis- 
sipation, or  amidst  the  ferment  of  licentious  plea- 
sures, and  inegular  desires.  A  mind,  inflamed  by 
the  expectation,  or  intoxicated  by  the  enjoyment  of 
sensual  pleasure,  hears  nothing  that  either  Nature 
or  Providence  deposes  concerning  God,  their  au- 
thor. Their  cahi),  still  voice,  must  be  listened  to,  in 
order  to  be  heard;  and  attended  to,  in  order  to  be 
understood. 

It  is  not  when  the  heart  is  captivated  by  the  frivo- 
lous amusements,  or  when  the  eye  is  dazzled  with 
"the  pride  of  life,"  that  we  can  see,  or  are  disposed 
to  see  the  manifestations  of  the  glory  of  God.  So 
long  as  our  views  are  attracted  by  the  glare  of  world- 
ly vanities,  or  centred  on  the  object  of  some  sensual 
desire,  the  discoveries  of  God's  glory,  however  obvi- 
ous, and  however  clear,  will  elude  our  observation; 
they  will  be  to  us  as  if  they  were  not.  If  the  current 
of  our  affections  be  directed  towards  sensible  objects, 
and  the  force  of  habit  have  once  fixed  them  in  that 
channel,  it  will  carry  all  our  thoughts  along  with 
it,  and  will  leave  us  little  inclination,  and  indeed 
little  power,  to  employ  our  attention  upon  any 
thing,  that  has  not  some  obvious  relation  to  those 
scenes  and  objects  in  which  we  have  our  principal 
delight.  It  avails  not  that  our  general  apprehen- 
sions of  God,  his  character  and  government,  may 
be  just.  General  apprehensions  are  always  too 
languid  and  obscure  to  awaken  the  affections  of  the 
heart.  It  is  only  by  a  serious  and  continued  atten- 
tion to  the  particular  displays  of  the  perfections  of 
God,  that  the  correspondent  sentiments  can  be  ex- 
cited in  our  breasts:  while  our  attention  is  engross- 
ed by  other  objects,  whatever  we  may  know  of  him 
in  general,  our  love  to  him  will  not  rise. 


192         On  the  Incompatibility  of  the  Love  of 

In  the  second  place,  There  is  a  real  inconsisten- 
cy between  that  love  of  pleasure  which  the  Apos- 
tle censures,  and  the  love  of  God,  in  as  much  as  it 
has  a  natural  tendency  to  render  our  hearts  int-ensi- 
ble  to  those  excellencies  of  the  divine  nature,  which 
are  the  causes  and  the  objects  of  that  affection, 
which  we  call  the  love  of  God. 

It  is  one  natural  effect  of  religious  truth,  where- 
ever  it  is  clearly  discerned,  and  cordially  embrac- 
ed, to  increase  our  sensibility  to  moral  excellt.nce, 
to  raise  our  ideas  of  the  importance  of  moral 
worth  ;  whilst,  on  the  contrary,  the  school  of  plea- 
sure has  never  been  recommended  as  a  school  of 
moral  sensibility.  It  has  often  been  lamented,  that, 
by  the  enchantments  of  pleasure,  the  finer  feelings 
of  the  human  heart,  its  attachment  unto  moral  ex- 
cellence, its  thirst  after  true  glory,  its  admiration 
of  whatever  things  are  ''just,  true,  pure,  lovely, 
venerable,  and  of  good  report,"  have  not  only 
been  enfeebled,  but  suspended,  and  not  only  sus- 
pended for  a  season,  but  sometimes  laid  asleep  for 
ever.  But  our  love  of  God  depends  upon  the  mo- 
ral sensibility  of  our  hearts,  for  it  must  arise  out  of 
our  perception  of  the  moral  excellencies  of  his  cha- 
racter. In  his  eternity,  he  is  awful ;  in  his  omnipo- 
tence,^he  is  tremendous ;  it  is  in  the  moral  glories  of 
his  character,  that  God  is  the  object  of  our  esteem, 
our  veneration,  and  our  love.  It  is  his  purity,  his 
equity,  his  veracity,  his  fidelity,  his  love  of  virtue, 
his  abhorrence  of  unrighteousness ;  his  attention 
to  the  wants,  his  condescension  to  the  frailties  of 
his  creatures,  his  tender  mercies,  and  his  liberal 
beneficence  which  extejids  itself  to  all  his  works; 
these  are  the  perfections  that  we  love  in  God,  and 
in  proportion  to  our  sensibility  to  the  excellence  of 
these  perfections,  will   be    the   vivacity  of  the   love 


Pleasurt^  with  the  Love  of  God.  193 

we  bear  him.  If  we  discern  nothing  excellent  in 
these,  we  shall  discern  nothing  excellent  in  God,  ex- 
cept those  attributes  of  independence  and  of  pow- 
er, which,  separated  from  his  moral  glories,  would 
reFider  him  an  object  of  ten  our,  rather  than  of 
love.  If  our  hearts  are  become  so  callous  that 
theae  moral  beauties  can  make  no  impression  on 
them,  the  love  of  God  can  have  no  admittance 
there. 

What  think  you,  Christians,  is  not  levity  an 
enemy  to  piety  ?  Can  the  love  of  God  maintain  it- 
self in  a  life  of  unceasing  dissipation?  Is  it  in  a 
round  of  frivolous  amusements,  is  it  in  the  crowd  of 
ostentatious  vanities,  that  the  taste  for  moral  digni- 
ty is  to  be  acquired  ?  Is  it  hither  you  would  send  us 
to  improve  and  cultivate  our  relish  of  moral  beauty 
and  of  spiritual  excellence  ?  The  mind  that  is  capa- 
ble of  prostituting  its  affections  to  those  vain  and 
trivial  things,  is  that  mind  capable  of  any  deep  im- 
pressions from  the  moral  excellencies  ot  its  Maker  ? 
— Is  that  mind  capable  of  so  noble  and  so  elevated 
an  affection  as  the  love  of  God  ?  Can  the  soul  that 
dotes  upon  the  gayeties  and  splendours  of  the 
world  ;  that  aspires  to  no  higher  happiness,  than 
what  they  can  bestow ;  that  centres  all  its  wishes 
and  pursuits  on  these,  can  that  little  soul  expand 
itself  to  admit  the  influences  of  its  Creator's  glo- 
ries ? 

But  if  this  be  true  of  that  species  of  the  love 
of  pleasure  which  constitutes  the  character  of  the 
giddy  and  the  gay,  what  shall  we  say  of  the  car- 
nal mind  ? — Look  into  the  frame  of  the  human 
heart — Look  into  the  world,  and  you  will  presently 
be  convinced  of  the  destructive  influences  of  volup- 
tuousness and  sensuality,  to  deprave   our  principles, 


194  On  the  Incompatibility  of  the  Love  of 

to  impair  our  powers,  and  to  lay  waste  all  the  beau- 
ties and  honours  of  the  mind.  Whence  is  it,  that  the 
men  of  pleasure  are  usually  as  licentious  in  their 
principles,  as  they  are  libertine  in  their  conduct?  Is 
it  not  that,  whatever  tends  to  enliven  or  preserve 
their  moral  sensibility,  tends  to  show  them  to  them- 
selves in  an  unacceptable  light  ?  mixes  the  gall  of 
bitterness  with  their  pleasures,  and  must  be  shunned 
by  them  at  whatever  expense  ?  Is  it  not  that,  what- 
ever, on  the  contrary,  tends  to  deaden  or  destroy 
this  sensibility  to  moral  worth,  cooperates  with 
their  love  of  pleasure,  which  has  itself  the  same  ten- 
dency, and  encourages  them  to  walk  '*  in  the  ways  of 
their  hearts,  and  in  the  sight  of  their  eyes  ?" 

To  love  God,  is  to  delight  in  him  ;  but  what  de- 
light can  he  take  in  God,  whose  chosen  friends,  the 
companions  of  his  unworthy  pleasures,  are  the 
meanest  and  most  detestable  of  mankind  ?  What 
delight  can  he  take  in  God,  whose  soul  is  so  much 
engrossed,  one  while  by  the  pursuit  and  the  antici- 
pation, another  while  by  the  enjoyment  of  the  basest 
gratifications,  that  God  perhaps  is  not  in  all  his 
thoughts?  What  delight  can  he  take  in  God,  who 
has  fixed  his  portion  and  his  happiness  in  licentious 
pleasure  ?  Divested  of  the  understanding  that  dis- 
cerns justly  between  the  things  that  differ,  divested 
of  the  tVeedom  that  prefers  those  that  are  most  ex- 
cellent, unable  to  raise  his  thoughts  to  the  contem- 
plation of  the  Deity  ;  at  least  unable  to  relish  so 
refined  and  so  sublime  a  pleasure,  can  a  wretch  like 
this  have  delight  in  God?  Hardened  into  such 
insensibility  to  every  thing  that  is  worthy  and 
excellent,  to  every  thing,  that  honourably  distin- 
guishes the  nature,  and  which  dignifies  the  soul  of 
man,  what  love  can  such  a  heart  conceive  for  the  pure, 
the  lioiy,  the  spiritual  excellencies  of  God  ?  What 
joy    will  he  entertain   in  the  contemplation  of  the 


Pleasure,  with  the  Love  of  God.  19i> 

divine  government,  so  full  of  mercy  and  of  love  ;  or 
what  atTection  will  he,  whose  heart  is  contracted 
within  the  narrow  sphere  of  its  own  meanest  inte- 
rests, what  affection  will  he  conceive  towards  that 
God,  whose  glorv  and  whose  praise  it  is,  tiiat  '  his 
tender  mercies  are  over  all  his  works?'  Sensuality 
is  a  gulf  of  bottomless  perdition,  where  every  thing 
noble,  respectable,  and  excellent  is  lost.  It  renders 
us  inattentive  and  insensible  to  those  excellencies, 
and  the  displays  of  those  excellencies  of  his,  whence 
the  love  of  God  proceeds.  It  would  be  almost 
as  reasonable  to  look  for  this  amiable  principle  in 
the  abodes  of  hopeless  misery,  as  to  seek  for  it  in 
the  corruptions  of  the  carnal  mind.  The  carnal 
mind  is  the  grave  of  reason,  of  virtue,  of  devotion, 
of  iionour,  of  happiness,  and  of  hope  ;  it  is  the  dis- 
grace and  the  curse  of  man ;  it  is  both  the  enemy 
and  the  abhorrence  of  his  Maker.  If  you  are  asham- 
ed of  reason  and  of  conscience:  if  vou  wish  to  bid 
adieu  to  all  that  is  great,  and  good,  and  celestial, 
and  divine  ;  if  you  have  no  satisfaction  in  those  sub- 
limer  powers  of  your  frame,  by  which  being  like  to 
God,  you  might  approach  him,  and  enjoy  his  favour, 
bury  them  in  the  abyss  of  sensual  indulgencies,  that 
you  may  abandon  yourselves  without  restraint  to 
the  dictates  of  the  carnal  mind.  But  remember, 
licentious  Sinner,  remember,  that  once  buried  there, 
they  may  revive  no  more ;  once  dead,  and  their 
death  sealed  by  tJwffc  determined  profligacy  and  im- 
penitence, they  are  dead  forever;  the  sacred  senti- 
ments of  virtue  will  live  no  more  within  thy  breast; 
the  flames  of  divine  love  will  animate  thy  soul  no 
more.  All  is  over  with  thee  as  to  heaven  and  eter- 
nity, and  the  few  short  hours  that  remain  of  mortal 
life,  will  add  little  to  thy  pleasure,  but  much  to  thv 
dishonour  :  and  when  this  world  has  resigned  thee, 
where   wilt  thou   be   found  .'^     To  whom   wilt   thou 


196  On  the  Incompatibility  of  the  Love  of 

repair  for  comfort  ?  Whither  wilt  thou  betake  thy- 
self?— To  heaven?  Alas,  there  dwells  that  God 
with  whom,  in  the  day  of  thy  probation,  thou  didst 
live  at  enmity  :  There  dwell  those  holy  spirits  who 
seek  their  happiness  in  the  divine  favour,  and  give 
up  all  their  powers  to  the  influence  of  his  excellen- 
cies, and  the  fulfilment  of  his  will:  These,  in  truth, 
are  the  only  mansions  of  light,  and  life,  and  joy  ;  but 
there  nothing  enters  that  defileth  ;  ,ali  is  spotless 
purity,  and  ardent  love. 

Beware,  my  friends,  beware  ye  of  the  carnal  mind; 
'it  is  enmity,**  saitli  the  Apostle,  '  against  God;'  the 
completion  of  it  is  miserably  fatal ;  its  excesses 
are  dreadfully  dangerous  ;  every  degree  of  it  wars 
against  the  soul,  invades  its  peace,  destroys  its  com- 
fort, and  threatens  to  dispossess  it  of  those  divine 
affections  which  it  is  its  duty,  its  honour,  and  its  hap- 
piness to  entertain.  Like  all  other  vicious  habits,  it 
begins,  perhaps,  insensibly,  and  proceeds  by  degrees 
to  its  completion  :  the  first  approaches,  therefore, 
towards  it,  ought  to  excite  your  fear,  and  employ 
your  vigilance. 


PRAYER. 

O  Almighty  and  most  righteous  God  !  Thou 
art  great,  and  greatly  to  be  fcantfllf  and  to  be  had  in 
reverence  of  all  those  that  come  nigh  unto  thee. 
Ever  mindful  of  the  snares  and  dangers  by  which  we 
are  surrounded,  of  the  allurements  of  pleasure,  and  of 
our  own  manifold  infirmities, — may  we  be  enabled  to 
keep  our  hearts  with  all  diligence,  that  nothing  may 
ever  find  admittance  there,  that  will  not  bear  the 
eye  of  God.  Pardon,  we  beseech  thee,  whatever 
thou  mayest  have  seen  amiss  hitherto,  in  our  temper 


Pleasure,  with  the  Love  of  God.  197 

or  our  conduct,  and  may  it  henceforth  be  our  invaria- 
ble resolution,  that,  whatever  others  do,  we  will 
serve  the  Lord. 

Sanctify  us  throughout  in  every  principle  of  our 
nature.  May  we  not  be  conformed  to  this  world, 
ensnared  by  its  licentious  principles,  or  seduced  by 
its  fleeting  and  unhallowed  pleasures;  but  mty  thy 
grace,  which  brings  salvation,  teach  us,  denying  all 
ungodliness,  and  worldly  lusts,  to  live  soberly,  right- 
eously, and  piously,  looking  for  that  blessed  hope, 
and  the  glorious  appearing  of  the  great  God,  and 
our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ*  who  gave  himself  for  us, 
that  he  might  redeem  us  from  all  iniquity,  and  purify 
to  himself  a  peculiar  people  zealous  of  good  works. 
lyiay  we  ever  keep  it  in  remembrance,  that  if  we 
hold  out  unto  the  end,  our  day  of  recompense  will  be 
proportionably  glorious  and  happy,  and  by  the  pa- 
tient continuance  in  well  doing,  may  we  seek  for 
glory,  honour,  and  immortality,  till  we  have  obtained 
the  crown  of  life. 


15 


DISCOURSE     XI. 

ON    THE    INCOMPATIBILITY    OF     THE     LOVE    OF 
PLEASURE,    WITH    THE    LOVE    OF     GOD 


PART    II. 


11.    EPIST.    TO    TIMOTHY,   iji.  4. 

Lovers  of  Pleasure,  more  than  lovers  of  God. 

The  heart  of  man  is  contracted  or  dilated  accord- 
ing to  the  objects  on   which  its  affections  are  em- 
ployed.    Are   they  mean   and  trivial?     Great,  and 
noble,  and  important  objects  may  present  themselves 
before  it,  but  they  will  leave    no  impressions   there. 
Are  the  objects  great,  and  noble,  and  important,  to 
which  the  stream  of  its  affections  has  been  ordinarily 
and  habitually  directed  ?    whatever   objects   do   not 
answer  to    this   character,    though    they  may   make 
some  faint  and  transient  impressions,  will  solicit  the 
dominion  of  it  in  vain.     It  is  not  from  the  giddy  and 
the  gay;  it  is  not  from  the  vain  and   the  dissipated, 
from  those  who  are  devoted  to  the  frivolous  pastimes, 
or  the  glaring  pageantry  of  life  ;   it  is  not  from  these 
that  we  expect  any  great  achievements  in  the  serious 
affairs  even  of  this  world;   we  reckon,   and  experi- 
ence justifies  tiiat  account,  that   they   are    incapable 
of  conducting   them  ;  we  expect  to  find,  and  experi- 
ence ordinarily  justifies    the   expectation,  that  thev 
are  incapable  of  being  properly  impressed  by  tiiem. 


On  the  Incompatibility  of  the  Love,  &c.         109. 

It  is  not  in  a  heart  like  this,  that  jou  look  for  any 
great  degree,  or  any  wise  exertions  of  parental 
tenderness,  of  filial  affection,  or  of  faitiifnl  friendship. 
This  is  not  the  character  in  which  you  would  wish 
to  clothe  either  your  fathers,  or  your  children,  or 
your  friends ;  and  wherefore  ?  what  reason  can  you 
give  for  that  reluctance  to  conceive  of  those  with 
whom  you  are  thus  connected,  under  such  a  cha- 
racter, but  the  persuasion  which  experience  of  hu- 
man nature  and  of  human  life,  has  wrought  in  you, 
that  levity  consists  not  with  any  just  sensibility  of 
spirit? 

It  is  a  very  serious  truth,  to  which  the  attention 
of  this  age  should  be  perpetually  called,  that  levity, 
as  well  as  sensuality,  may  superinduce  an  impe- 
netrable callousness  upon  the  human  heart ;  and 
in  time,  through  the  power  of  habit,  may  render 
it  absolutely  unimpressible  by  the  weightiest  and 
most  interesting  objects  in  the  universe.  It  should 
be  reminded  also,  that  the  love  of  pleasure,  from 
which  both  these  affections  spring,  is  a  contagious 
passion,  the  principle  subsists  in  every  heart,  is 
inseparable  from  human  nature,  and  may  easily 
be  kindled  into  an  undue  degree  of  ardour.  Its 
excesses  easily  communicate  themselves  from  heart 
to  heart;  the  fire  runs  and  spreads  and  diffuses 
itself  far  and  wide. — Alas,  you  need  not  look  far 
into  the  world,  to  see  the  exemplification  of  this 
melancholy  truth  !  Of  you,  my  friends,  I  would  hope 
that,  to  engage  you  to  beware  of  so  pestilent  a 
principle,  1  need  not  to  urge  you,  with  any  other 
argument  than  this  single  consideration,  that  you 
cannot  reconcile  the  love  of  pleasure  with  the  love 
of  God.  If,  to  be  conformed  to  this  Avorld,  be  in- 
consistent with  your  conformity  to  the  image  of  the 
son   of  God,  you   will   not   suffer  yourselves  to  be 


200  On  the  Incompatibility  of  the  Love  of 

carried  down  by  the  tide,  either  of  prevailing  vices, 
or  of  fashionable  vanities.  You  know  that,  upon 
your  conformity  to  his  image  depends  the  dignity  of 
your  character,  your  peace  of  mind,  your  hope  in 
God  while  you  live  in  this  present  world,  and  your 
safety  also  and  happiness,  in  that  eternal  world  to 
which  you  are  going ;  "  for,  if  any  man  have  not 
the  spirit  of  Christ,  he  is  none  of  his." — On  your 
love  to  God,  you  know,  depends  his  love  to  you  ; 
whoso  honoureth  me,  saith  God,  I  will  honour, 
but  whoso  despiseth  me,  shall  himself  be  lightly  es- 
teemed. 

And  can  you,  Christians,  can  you,  to  the  love  of 
pleasure,  sacrifice  the  love  of  God  .''  If  the  maxims, 
the  manners,  and  pursuits  that  prevail  around 
you,  are  injurious  to  this  sacred  principle,  you  will 
step  aside  out  of  the  stream  in  which  it  would  be 
extinguished.  The  pleasures  of  sin,  you  well 
know,  are  but  for  a  very  short  season,  and  for 
these,  surely,  you  will  not  relinquish  your  hope 
and  expectation  from  his  mercy,  which  endureth  for 
ever! 

It  is  no  pleasing  prospect  to  be  a  spectator  of 
the  vices  and  follies  of  men,  but  it  is  a  much  bet- 
ter state  than  to  be  a  partaker  in  them.  ¥,  ho 
would  not  choose  to  stand,  though  it  were  alone, 
upon  the  rock  of  ages,  loving  God,  and  beloved  by 
him,  than  to  plunge  into  the  downward  current  of 
licentious  pleasures  and  unprofitable  vanities,  al- 
though thousands  of  all  that  the  world  calls  great 
and  honourable  were  embarked  upon  it,  and  in- 
vited him  to  join  them  ?  If  therefore  it  appears  to 
you,  that  the  love  of  pleasure  is  inconsistent  with 
the  love  of  God,  in  any  degree  inconsistent  with 
the   subsistence,  the  establishment,  or  the  growth 


1 


Pleasure,  with  the  Love  of  God.  201 

of  this  heavenly  affection,  the  character  of  the  text 
will  not  be  your  character ;  whatever  becomes  of 
the  love  of  pleasure,  you  will  hold  fast  your  love 
to  God.  If  you  must  deny  yourselves,  it  will  be 
in  the  meaner,  rather  than  in  the  nobler  affections 
of  your  nature ;  you  will  disdain  a  life  of  plea- 
sure, if  vou  cannot  find  it  in  living  unto  God.  But, 
even  this  sacrifice,  small  as  it  would  be  in  compari- 
son, will  not  in  ordinary  cases  be  rendered  neces- 
sary ;  for, 

It  is  to  the  honour  of  true  religion,  that  it  is  a 
reasonable  service;  that  it  requires  of  us  no  rigo- 
rous austerities,  or  superstitious  mortifications  ;  that 
while  the  service  of  vice  is  absolutely  incompatible 
with  the  gratification  of  all  our  natural  principles, 
and  requires  the  sacrifice  of  the  best,  to  the  in- 
dulgence of  the  meaner  passions.  Religion  provides 
for  the  gratification  of  them  all.  By  the  proper 
regulation  of  their  objects  and  their  measures,  she 
reconciles  their  interfering  interests;  and  it  is  by 
the  observance  of  her  precepts  alone,  that  they 
can  be  made  harmonious  and  consistent.  To  gra- 
tify one  vicious  passion,  it  must  often  happen,  that 
another  vicious  passion  must  be  mortified :  the  be- 
nefit and  pleasure  of  every  vice,  so  far  as  there  is 
any  benefit  or  pleasure  in  them,  cannot  be  com- 
bined together:  but  all  the  virtues  harmonize  per- 
fectly with  each  other,  and  with  religious  plea- 
sures; may  live  together  in  the  same  heart;  and 
do  not,  necessarily,  exclude  from  it  any  one  inno- 
cent enjoyment. 

Where  the  love  of  God  is  the  sovereign  princi- 
ple, the  love  of  pleasure  may  have  its  sweetest 
gratifications  ;  but,  where  the  love  of  pleasure  is 
the  sovereign  principle,  there,  the  love  of  God  must 


202  On  the  Incompatibility  of  the  Love  of 

languish  and  decline.  Where  the  question  is,  how 
may  I  recoQimend  myself  to  God  ?  where  his  ap- 
probation is  made  the  great  end  of  life;  there, 
whatever  he  hath  given  us  the  capacity  and  the 
opportunity  of  enjoying,  with  innocence  and  pru- 
dence, will  naturally  be  embraced  by  us,  as  an 
agreeable,  at  least,  if  not  a  laudable  concurrence 
with  the  kind  intentions  of  our  Maker,  and  the 
friendly  invitations  of  his  providence.  But.  w'lere 
the  only  question  is,  in  what  can  1  indulge  mv- 
self.'*  where  amusement  and  enjoyment  is  propos- 
ed as  the  great  end  of  life,  there,  the  love  of  God, 
if  it  could  be  supposed  that  there  was  a  capacity 
of  relishing  devotional  enjoyments,  is  an  object,  !:«y 
no  means  sufficiently  obvious  and  sensible  to  he 
taken  into  the  account  of  happiness  ;  it  is  of  too 
remote  and  refined  a  nature  to  be  sought  after 
by  the  sensual,  for  the  sake  of  the  pleasure  it 
afibrds. 

Will  the  carnal  mind  exert  itself  to  make  invi- 
sible and  spiritual  things  the  objects  of  its  de- 
liberate contemplation  ?  will  that  which  it  re- 
lishes in  the  works  of  God,  lead  on  the  carnal 
mind  to  the  perception  and  the  adoration  of  his 
moral  glories  ?  Will  these  be  the  chosen  subject 
of  its  thoughts  ;  and  to  cherish  the  sentiments 
that  belong  to  them,  its  desire  and  delighi  ?  Can 
the  carnal  mind  conceive  a  purpose  so  remote  from 
its  habits  and  its  pleasures?  Will  it  willingly,  will 
it  seriously,  will  it  frequently  employ  itself  in  the 
creation,  in  the  providence,  and  in  the  oracles  of 
God,  with  the  intention  to  excite  and  to  enliven  its 
affection  towards  him  ?  If  its  Creator's  excellencies 
can  indeed  excite  any  good  atFections  in  it,  will  it 
watch  over  the  affectioifs  they  have  excited,  that 
they  may   not  in   its  intercourse   with  other  things 


Pleasure,  with  the  Love  of  God.  203 

be  extinguished  or  die  away?  Will  the  carnal 
mind  be  jealous,  lest,  in  its  familiarity  with  sensible 
and  external  things,  it  should  contract  an  indisposi- 
tion towards  religious  sentiments  and  affections,  or 
an  inability  of  conceiving  them  with  vivacity  and 
readiness  ?  Will  it  therefore  often  be  returning  to 
those  religious  meditations  and  devotions,  which 
have  power  to  renew  the  impressions  when  they  are 
decaying,  to  revive  the  love  of  God  when  it  is  lan- 
guishing, and  to  keep  our  hearts  as  sensible  as  they 
ought  to  be,  to  spiritual,  moral,  and  eternal  things? 
Will  the  carnal  mind  have  these  solicitudes,  and 
employ  these  means  from  time  to  time  to  perpetu- 
ate upon  it  the  influence  of  the  love  of  God  ?  If 
you  cannot  believe  this,  neither  can  you  doubt, 
that  there  is  a  real  inconsistency  between  this  spe- 
cies of  the  love  of  pleasure,  and  the  love  of  God; 
for  without  the  exercise  of  such  solicitudes,  and  the 
application  of  such  means,  even  in  the  mind  that  is 
not  carnal,  the  love  of  God  cannot  be  maintained  in 
any  tolerable  measures  of  vivacity  and  power. 
Again, 

If  such  solicitude,  care,  and  attention,  be  need- 
ful to  maintain  and  cultivate  this  divine  affection, 
can  it  flourish,  can  it  live  in  the  hearts  of  the  giddy 
and  the  gay  ?  Will  they,  to  whom  thought  is 
fatigue,  who  fly  from  amusement  to  amusement  to 
save  themselves  from  their  own  minds ;  will  thej 
be  induced,  will  they  be  able,  to  abstract  their 
thoughts  from  visible  and  external  things;  to  fix 
them  on  God  who  is  a  spirit,  whom  no  man  hath 
seen  or  can  see,  and  all  whose  excellencies  are  spi- 
ritually discerned  ? — But  what  need  have  we  to 
reason  on  the  subject?  Did  ever  any  one  expect 
to  find  a  man  of  pleasure  at  his  devotions?  delight- 
ing in  the  opportunity  of  retiring  to  his  closet;  pleas- 
ed to  indulge  the  sacred  sentiments  of  religion,  and 


204  On  the  Incompatibility  of  the  Love  of 

assiduously  cultivating  the  love  of  God  ?  Is  it  the 
men  of  pleasure  that  crowd  our  religious  assem- 
blies? Is  it  the  men  of  pleasure  that  adorn  our 
sanctuaries  with  a  truly  decent  and  serious  demea- 
nour? with  an  appearance  that  betrays  no  con- 
straint, no  uneasiness,  no  impatient  dissatisfaction, 
or  indifference?  Is  it  the  men  of  pleasure  that 
sanctify  the  day  of  God  ? — But  it  is  not  necessary 
in  behalf  of  the  doctrine  1  maintain,  to  multiply  these 
inquiries ;  even  with  themselves  I  may  lodge  the 
appeal :  it  is  no  part  of  their  pride  that  they  are 
religious  ;  this  is  a  character  that  they  are  more  apt 
to  deride  than  to  affect;  they  do  not,  ordinarily,  even 
pretend  to  be  devout.— Yet,  my  friends,  suffer  not 
yourselves  to  be  deceived  ;  let  no  man  conclude  that 
because  he  hath  not  fully  arrived  at  the  open  con- 
tempt or  even  at  the  total  neglect  of  religion  and 
religious  ordinances,  that  therefore  he  is  not  a  lover 
of  pleasure,  more  than  a  lover  of  God.  True  re- 
ligion cannot  subsist  with  the  love  of  pleasure,  but 
the  form  of  godliness  may  consist  with  and  encourage 
it.  The  offices  of  devotion,  both  publick  and 
private,  may  be  performed,  may  be  regularly  and 
habitually  performed  from  very  different  motives, 
and  for  very  different  ends.  To  nourish  the  spirit 
of  devotion,  to  promote  the  love  of  God,  they  can- 
not be  performed,  ^vhere  the  love  of  pleasure  is  the 
ruling  principle  ; — to  deceive  the  world,  to  deceive 
the  persons  themselves,  tiiey  may.  Try  your  de- 
votions, do  you  mean  to  be  really  religious,  or  to  ap- 
pear so  ?  In  reflecting  on  them,  do  you  consider  the 
fruits  of  genuine  piety  that  have  arisen  out  of  them  ; 
or,  are  you  more  disposed  to  attend  to  the  merit  you 
think  there  is  in  them  ;  and  under  the  considejation 
of  this  merit,  to  excuse  or  to  connive  at  those  indul- 
gences, of  which  you  have  at  least  some  suspicion 
that  they  are  not  right  ?     If  it  be  so,  your  piety  is 


Pleasure^  with  the  Love  of  God.  205 

irreligion,  and  however  unwilling  you  may  be  to  be- 
lieve it,  however  averse  to  have  others  think  so,  you 
are  indeed  lovers  of  pleasure,  more  than  lovers  of 
God. 

But  to  return,  You  are  saying  to  yourselves,  per- 
haps, that  jour  pleasures  are  none  of  them  forbid- 
den pleasures,  and  that  you  need  not  to  be  warned 
against  the  practices  of  which  you  are  not  guilty. 
Indeed,  my  friends,  I  would  gladly  hope,  that  to 
warn  you  against  pleasures  that  are  decidedly  licen- 
tious, to  exhort  you  to  beware  of  criminal  indulgen- 
ces, whether  of  appetite  or  imagination,  would  be 
superfluous  and  impertinent.  You,  I  would  willingly 
persuade  myself,  have  not  so  learned  Christ — You 
are  too  well  acquainted  with  his  doctrine  concerning 
the  conditions  of  acceptance  with  your  Maker,  to 
think  of  reconciling  the  hope  of  future  happiness, 
with  the  indulgence,  either  of  the  "  lust  of  the  flesh, 
or  the  lusts  of  the  eye,  or  of  the  pride  of  life"  in  any 
forbidden  instance,  or  by  any  forbidden  means.  But 
is  it  unknown  to  you,  that  no  man  suddenly  becomes 
abandoned  ?  Is  it  unknown  to  you,  that  vice 
steals  into  the  heart  by  imperceptible  degrees,  and 
acquires  her  dominion  over  us  in  such  manner  and 
by  such  means  as  may  be  least  alarming  ?  Is  it  un- 
known to  you,  that  she  allures  our  approaches  to- 
wards her,  first  by  one  step,  in  which  considered 
in  itself  there  may  be  nothing  blameable,  and  after- 
wards by  another,  which  compared  with  the  former 
may  be  very  little  diflerent  from  it,  till,  at  length, 
by  differences  so  minute  that  they  escape  our  notice, 
or  perhaps  even  encourage  our  advances,  she  ac- 
complishes the  greatest  revolutions  in  our  character, 
and  alters  it  from  good,  to  less  good,  from  less  good 
to  evil,  from  evil,  downwards  through  its  various 
stages,  till  we  arrive  at  last  at  the  most  abandoned? 

16 


206  On  the  [ncompatibility  of  the  Love  of 

Is  this,  my  friends,  unknown  to  you  ? — Are  you  so 
ignorant  of  the  deceitfulness  of  sin,  of  the  power 
of  habit,  and  the  influence  of  example,  as,  that  in  an 
age  when  the  love  of  pleasure  seems  to  be  continu- 
ally gaining  ground  upon  the  love  of  God,  the  cau- 
tion to  beware  of  it  should  be  deemed  superfluous  ? 
It  cannot  be.  Vice  ever  lays  hold  on  some  natural 
propensity  to  bring  us  into  her  power  ;  a  good  rea- 
son surely  why  we  should  keep  an  attentive  eye 
and  a  steady  rein  upon  these  principles  of  our 
frame  that  are  most  seducible,  and  the  more  steady, 
and  the  more  attentive,  in  proportion  as  external 
circumstances  favour  their  undue  increase,  or  en- 
courage and  facilitate  their  corruption. 

If  there  be,  as  you  have  seen  there  is,  a  real 
opposition  between  the  love  of  pleasure  and  the 
love  of  God,  it  behoves  us  at  every  time  and  in  every 
scene,  to  set  a  guard  upon  this  principle  ;  but,  in  a 
scene  and  at  a  time  in  which  almost  every  thing 
around  us,  tends  to  induce,  to  inflame,  and  to  em- 
bolden this  principle,  it  behoves  us  to  be  doubly 
vigilant  and  resolute  to  restrain  its  wanderings,  and 
to  check  its  growth. 

I  will  suppose,  if  you  will  have  it  so,  that  you 
neither  are  guilty,  nor  in  danger  of  becoming  guilty, 
of  any  such  voluptuous  indulgences,  as,  considered 
singly,  and  in  themselves,  are  criminal ;  yet  yau 
have  no  reason  to  conclude  from  this,  that  in  respect 
to  the  love  of  pleasure,  either  your  temper  or  your 
conduct  is  what  it  ought  to  be.  Though  none  of 
jour  pleasurable  gratifications,  considered  singly, 
be  criminal  either  in  their  nature  or  in  their  degree, 
yet,  notwithstanding  this,  your  character  may  still 
be  exceedingly  inexcusable  and  unworthy.  It  is 
not  merely  the  criminal  gratifications  of  this  passion 


Pleasure,  with  the  Love  of  God.  207 

that  are  inconsistent  with  the  love  of  God,  it  can- 
not consist  with  even  a  prevailing  taste  for  pleasure. 
Where  the  desire  and  the  pursuit  of  pleasure  have 
formed  and  fixed  the  habits  of  the  mind,  there,  in 
that  mind,  tliere  is  no  room  for  the  love  of  God. 
Sensuality  and  levity  of  spirit,  though  they  should 
be  so  restricted,  by  regard  to  credit,  or  to  interest, 
or  by  any  other  principle,  as  never  to  break  out 
into  any  flagrant  violations  of  the  law  of  God,  are, 
nevertheless,  where  they  constitute  the  temper  of 
the  heart,  irreconcilable  enemies  to  the  genuine  love 
of  God. — Do  not  then,  my  friends,  soothe  your- 
selves with  the  thought,  that  your  pleasures  are 
neither  of  the  basest  nature,  nor  indulged  to  an  ex- 
travagant degree  ;  consider  what  your  temper  is  ; 
what  are  your  prevailing  affections  ;  what  are  your 
habitual  pursuits?  Is  pleasure,  not  spiritual  or 
moral,  but  worldly  pleasure  of  some  species  or  other, 
the  idea  that  first  meets  you  in  these  several  in- 
quiries ? — You  are  not  then  uninterested  in  any  ad- 
monition that  warns  you  to  beware  of  the  love  of 
pleasure.  Do  not  flatter  yourselves  with  the  reflec- 
tion, that  carnality  or  levity  is  not  your  appropriate 
character. 

A  prevailing  taste  for  the  gayeties  of  the  world  ; 
for  its  entertainments  and  amusements,  though  they 
be  fashionable;  for  its  games  and  pastimes,  though 
they  be  much  practised,  if  not  in  every  instance 
equally  ruinous,  yet  is  as  really  incompatible  with 
the  genuine  sentiments  of  devotion,  and  with  the 
principles  of  pure  and  undefiled  Religion,  as  that 
carnal  mind  which  you  pronounce  to  be  highly  ig- 
nominious, and  the  enjoyments  and  pursuits  of  which, 
it  may  be,  are  cordially  despised  by  you,  or  perhaps 
even  held  in  absolute  abhorrence. 


208         On  the  Incompatibilili/  of  the  Love  of 

Would  you  then  wish  to  love  God  ?  Do  you 
acknowledge  this  to  be  the  subject  of  the  first  and 
great  commandment?  Do  you  own  it,  for  what  in- 
deed it  is,  the  fundamental  principle  of  all  practical 
Religion  ?  Do  you  believe,  that  they  who  love  not 
God,  have  notliing  to  hope  for  from  his  friend- 
ship ?  Beware  of  the  love  of  pleasure  ?  it  has  a 
natural  tendency  to  deprive  you  of  the  purest  plea- 
sures of  the  present  life,  and  at  the  same  time  to 
disqualify  you  for  the  sublimer  happiness  of  the  life 
that  is  to  come. 

What  will  be  the  pleasures  of  the  world  when 
you  are  arrived  at  that  hour,  beyond  which  you  can 
stay  no  longer  in  it  ?  Such  an  hour  you  know  will 
come,  and  you  do  not  know  how  soon.  What  think 
you  will  be  the  reflections  of  the  carnal  mind  on  its 
sensualities,  when  death  is  pulling  down  the  fleshly 
tabernacle,  and  the  soul  is  starting  forth  into  the 
invisible  and  spiritual  world?  When  it  is  going  into 
the  presence,  when  it  is  going  to  the  judgment  seat 
of  God,  will  its  sensualities  stand  instead  of  piety  ? 
will  a  life  devoted  to  the  pleasures  of  this  world, 
stand  instead  of  a  life  devoted  to  the  service  of  God  ? 
Will  the  vain,  the  giddy,  and  the  gay,  they  whose 
happiness  consists  in  the  amusements  of  the  world, 
and  the  entertainments  of  a  roving  and  capricious 
imagination;  will  they  be  happy  when  all  the  amuse- 
ments of  the  world,  when  all  their  wonted  enter- 
tainments, when  flesh  and  heart,  and  every  earthly 
consolation  fails  them  ?  Will  they  bring  their  gaye- 
ty  along  with  them  into  that  serious  hour  ?  Will 
their  levity  attend  them  through  the  vale  of  death, 
and  carry  them  with  comfort  through  the  solemni- 
ties of  judgment  ?  Will  it  recommend  them  to  the 
friendship  of  their  Maker  ?  Will  it  entitle  them  to  a 
blessed  immortality?    Will  it  qualify  them   for  the 


Pleasure,  with  the  Love  of  God.  209 

business  and  the  happiness  of  heaven,  that,  with  a  gay 
unthinking  heart,  they  passed  through  life,  delighted 
with  its  vanities,  unimpressed  by  its  importance, 
inattentive  to  its  business,  and  careless  of  its  end  ? 
Will  it  cheer  them  in  the  solemn  season  of  their  dis- 
solution, that  in  spite  of  every  admonition  to  bring 
them  unto  serious  thought,  and  to  engage  them  in  the 
proper  business  of  life,  their  insensibility,  giddiness, 
and  levity,  had  still  maintained  itself  uncorrected  ? 
Will  these  be  sweet  reflections,  capable  of  soothing 
their  departing  pangs,  capable  of  enlivening  the 
gloom  of  death  ?  Will  they  then  feel  no  want  of  the 
sentiments  and  hopes  of  piety  ?  Will  they  then  suf- 
fer nothing,  for  having  permitted  the  vanities  of  this 
life  to  exclude  ihe  Author  of  their  being  from  their 
hearts?  Whose  will  be  the  most  tranquil  death- 
bed ?  Whose  will  be  the  most  pleasurable  immor- 
tality ?  His,  whose  probationary  period  has  been 
wasted  on  the  gayeties  and  follies  of  life,  or,  his, 
who  devoted  it  to  the  exercise,  to  the  culture,  and 
the  obedience  of  the  love  of  God  ?  The  man  who 
loves  this  world,  will  leave  this  world  with  reluc- 
tance and  with  terrour.  The  man  who  loves  God, 
will  go  to  the  God  he  loves,  with  pleasure  and  with 
joy.  In  the  grave,  there  is  no  provision  for  the 
flesh  to  fulfil  the  lusts  thereof;  in  the  grave,  there 
are  no  objects  to  entertain  a  vain  imagination. 
What  the  men  of  pleasure  call  pleasure,  suffers 
many  interruptions  from  the  inevitable  afflictions 
of  life,  and  has  a  certain  end,  when  life  ends;  and 
here  the  immortal  fruits  of  it  begin,  bitter  and 
distasteful  fruits  ! — But  the  love  of  God  is  a  source 
of  pure  and  stable  satisfaction  which  afflictions 
need  not  interrupt,  which  death  cannot  end,  which 
the  life  to  come  will  prolong,  improve,  immortalize, 
and  perfect. 


210         On  the  Incompatibility  of  the  Love,  &c. 

Beware  then  of  the  love  of  pleasure  ;  take  heed 
lest  it  seduce,  deceive,  and ,  destroy  you.  Keep 
your  hearts  with  all  diligence,  since  out  of  them 
are  the  issues  of  life.  Your  affections  cannot  be 
more  worthily  fixed  than  upon  him  who  implanted 
them  within  you. — "  My  son,"  saith  God,  "  give  me 
thy  heart;"  "  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God," 
saith  the  Son  of  God,  "  with  all  thy  heart,  and  soul, 
and  ;  strenojth  this  is    the  first   and  great  command- 


ment." 


PRAYER. 

O  Almighty  and  most  righteous  Father — Who 
can  understand  his  errours,  cleanse  thou  us  from 
secret  faults;  keep  back  thy  servants  also  from 
presumptuous  sins,  let  them  not  have  dominion  over 
us,  then  shall  we  be  upright  before  thee,  and  in- 
nocent from  the  great  transgression.  Enable  us,  we 
humbly  beseech  thee,  to  be  ever  on  our  guard,  re- 
solutely to  withstand  the  first  approaches  of  what- 
ever would  alienate  our  affections  from  thee,  or  at 
all  impede  our  diligence,  zeal,  and  alacrity  in  thy 
service ! 

We  thank  thee  that  thou  hast  given  us  a  law,  ex- 
emplified in  the  life  of  our  blessed  Lord,  to  be  a 
light  unto  our  feet  and  a  lamp  unto  our  paths. 
May  it  sink  deep  into  our  hearts,  ever  maintain- 
ing the  dominion  there,  till  at  length,  through  thine 
infinite  mercy,  we  arrive  in  the  land  of  everlasting 
uprightness  : — there,  may  we  celebrate  an  eternal 
triumph  over  sin,  and  sorrow,  and  infirmity,  and 
satisfied  with  thy  likeness,  be  for  ever  happy  in  thy 
heavenly  presence  ! 


DISCOURSE    XII. 

CHARACTERISTICKS      OF    THOSE,    WHO    ARE    GO- 
VERNED   BY    THE    LOVE     OF    PLEASURE. 


II.    EPJST.    TO   TIMOTHY,   i'li.    i. 

Lovers  of  Pleasure,  more  than  lovers  of  God. 

Haying  already  endeavoured  to  evince  that  there 
is  a  real  opposition  between  that  love  of  pleasure 
condemned  by  our  Apostle,  and  the  love  of  God  ; 
the  importance  of  the  subject  seems  to  require,  in 
order  to  assist  you  in  the  great  duty  of  self  examina- 
tion, that  we  should  specify  some  marks  or  signa- 
tures of  that  character,  in  which  the  love  of  pleasure 
so  fatally  prevails.  Those  marks  of  it  which  are 
most  obvious,  we  shall  merely  enumerate,  dilating 
upon  such  only,  as  may  not  at  first  sight  appear  to 
be  so  directly  opposed  to  the  love  of  God. 

If,  then,  to  gratify  your  love  of  pleasure,  you  vio- 
late the  commands  of  God  : — If,  through  the  influ- 
ence of  the  same  principle,  you  neglect  to  do  what 
he  requires  of  you : — If,  in  gratifying  your  love  of 
pleasure,  you  disqualify  yourselves  for  the  practice 
of  your  duty ;  you  most  assuredly  fall  under  the 
censure  of  the  text. — Moreover, 

If,  though  your  pleasures  are  not  a  violation  of  the 
law  of  God,  though  they  do  not  exclude  it  from  your 


212  Characieristicks  of  those  who  are 

regard,  nor  disqualify  you  for  your  duty  ;  yet,  if  you 
believe  that  they  are  unlawful,  and  pursue  them 
still;  or,  if  you  believe  that  the  measures  in  which 
you  are  accustomed  to  indulge  yourselves  in  them 
are  unlawful ;  or,  that  the  means  is  so  by  which  you 
obtain  that  indulgence,  and  still  persist  to  proceed 
such  lengths,  and  to  seek  it  by  such  means  ;  it  is 
not  easy  to  discover,  how  you  can  elude  the  change, 
of  being  lovers  of  pleasure,  more  than  lovers  of  God. 
Again, 

If,  though  you  are  not  quite  certain,  yet  if  you 
suspect  that  your  pleasures  are  unlawful ;  or  that 
the  length  to  which  you  pursue  them  is  so  ;  or  that 
the  means  by  which  you  seek  after  them  is  unlawful ; 
and  yet,  uninfluenced  by  this  suspicion,  you  neither 
change  your  conduct,  nor  satisfy  yourselves  concern- 
ing it,  you  are  lovers  of  pleasure,  more  than  lovers 
of  God. 

But,  passing  these  observations,  as  being  so  obvi- 
ous as  to  require  only  to  be  stated  to  obtain  general 
assent,  we  now  proceed  to  those  remarks,  on  which 
we  proposed  to  dilate,  in  order  more  powerfully  to 
prove  their  validity.     And  first. 

If  through  the  love  of  pleasure  you  neglect  the 
business  of  life,  you  cannot  doubt  about  your  charac- 
ter, for  the  business  of  life  is  a  part  of  the  work 
which  God  hath  given  you  to  do;  and  if  you  loved 
the  master  above  every  other  object,  with  all  your 
heart,  and  soul,  and  mind,  and  strength,  could  you 
irululge  any  such  extravagant  desires  after  the  vain 
amusements  or  the  sensual  enjoyments  of  the  world, 
as  should  tempt  you  to  neglect  his  work?  Wherever 
true  ideas  of  the  business  of  life  are  entertained, 
that    business  will  not,    from  any  motive,  be  neg- 


governed  by  the  Love  of  Pleasure.  213 

lected,  so  long  as  the  heart  is  governed  by  the  love 
of  God. 

Look  around  you,  take  a  serious  survey  of  human 
life,  observe  the  necessities  to  which  man  is  subject, 
the  labours  to  which  he  is  compelled,  the  sufferings 
to  which  he  is  exposed,  the  obligations  by  which  he 
is  bound,  and  from  which  he  cannot  by  any  argu- 
ments persuade  himself  that  he  is  released  ;  consider 
what  the  conduct  is  to  which  he  is  prompted,  and 
what  are  the  issues  of  conforming  to  the  impulses  of 
nature,  or  of  conscience,  or  of  resisting  them,  and 
then  say,  what  you  think  of  this  present  state  ;  is  it  a 
scene  of  pleasure,  or  a  school  of  discipline  ? — Was  it 
meant  for  a  state  of  idleness,  dissipation,  and  self- 
indulgence  ?  or,  is  our  terra  of  life  a  term  of  service, 
in  which  it  is  expected  that  we  should  be  diligent  in 
business,  faithful  to  our  own  best  interests,  and 
useful  unto  all  who  are  within  the  reach  of  our 
beneficence  ?  Were  we  sent  into  this  world  to  enjoy 
its  pleasures,  or  to  improve  its  opportunities?  Are 
our  powers  and  faculties  proportioned  only  to  our 
present  state,  and  incapable  of  being  exalted  into 
any  thing  above  it  ?  Is  the  gratification  of  sensual 
appetite,  or  of  a  vain  imagination,  the  great  end  and 
object  of  our  existence  r  Is  this  in  every  man's 
power  ?  Would  any  man  approve  himself,  if  he 
aimed  at  nothing  more  excellent  than  this  ?  Is  this 
the  end  to  which  every  other  thing  is  to  be  made 
subservient? — to  which  every  other  interest  is  to  be 
sacrificed  ?  Does  it  import  us  nothing  what  we  have 
done  in  this  world,  and  what  character  we  have 
formed  when  we  go  out  of  it,  provided  we  have 
been  amused,  and  entertained,  and  gratified,  duiing 
our  stay  in  it  ?  W^as  it  the  primary  intention  of  God, 
in  sending  us  into  this  world,  that  we  should  give 
the  rein  to  every  importunate  desire,  or  that  we 
17 


214  Charaderisticks  of  those,  who  are 

should  be  formed  to  virtue?  Which  of  these  is  it 
that  he  recommends  to  us  as  the  first  object  of  our 
endeavours  and  pursuits,  and  in  which  of  these 
views  is  it  that  he  requires  our  cooperation  ?  If  the 
object  of  God,  in  sending  us  into  this  world,  was 
our  complete  enjoyment  of  it,  how  comes  it  to  pass, 
that  this  object  is  not,  never  has  been,  and  probably 
never  will  be  attained  in  any  one  instance  ?  If  it 
was  not  his  chief  intention  to  form  us  to  virtue,  to 
all  good  habits,  and  to  all  moral  excellence,  whence 
comes  it  to  pass,  that  there  is  no  state,  no  circum- 
stance, no  single  occurrence  of  the  present  life,  that 
is  not  capable  of  being  applied  by  us  to  the  improve- 
ment of  our  own  characters  ?  If  it  cannot  be  believ- 
ed, that  in  making  man,  and  administering  to  him 
his  various  circumstances,  it  was  the  ultimate  design 
of  God,  that  he  should  spend  a  (e\v  short  years  in 
pleasure  ;  then  it  follows,  that  he  has  some  business 
in  this  world  ;  that  every  man's  peculiar  business  lies 
in  that  sphere  in  which  the  providence  of  God  has 
appointed  him  to  move,  and  that  the  proper  business 
of  his  station,  is,  in  truth,  the  work  of  God. — And 
can  any  man  love  God  and  neglect  that  work,  to 
gratify  himself? 

If  the  magistrate  were  pursuing  his  pleasures, 
while  the  injured  and  oppressed  were  imploring  in 
vain  for  justice  at  his  gates;  if  the  parents  of  a  family 
were  pursuing  their  pleasures,  whilst  their  children 
wanted  bread,  or,  although  they  should  be  provided 
with  the  necessaries  of  life,  whilst  they  needed  to  be 
formed  to  useful  knowledge,  to  prudent  and  virtuous 
habits;  whilst  they  were  in  want  of  example  to 
encourage,  as  well  as  of  precept  to  direct  them  ; 
what  would  you  think  of  these  parents,  or  of  that 
magistrate  ?  If  any  man,  indifferent  about  his  tem- 
per, his  conduct,  his  usefulness,  and  the  prosperity 


governed  by  the  Love  of  Pleasure.  213 

of  his  own  soul,  should  desert  the  proper  business 
of  his  station  to  go  in  quest  of  entertainment ;  if 
this  were  a  constant  habit,  if  this  were  a  frequent 
practice,  what  would  jou  think  of  that  man  ?  Could 
you  believe  that  the  love  of  God  dwelt  in  him  ? 
that  this  was  his  ruling  principle ;  that  he  loved 
the  work  which  God  hath  given  him  to  do  ?  You 
could  not  hesitate  in  making  the  contrary  decision. 
You  could  not  for  a  moment  doubt  but  that  this 
man,  that  magistrate,  and  those  parents,  were  lovers 
of  pleasure,  more  than  lovers  of  God. 

But  there  are  some,  perhaps,  who  will  be  ready 
to  allege,  that  they  have  no  business,  no  appropri- 
ate work.  If  it  be  so,  their  circumstances  must  be 
very  singular,  and  exceedingly  deplorable.  If  you 
have  no  work,  you  have  no  talents,  you  have  no  ex- 
ternal possessions  by  which  any  living  creature  can 
be  benefited ;  you  have  no  knowledge  which  may 
be  serviceable  either  to  yourselves  or  others,  and 
you  are  incapable  of  attaining  to  such  knowledge, 
or  of  acquiring  such  possessions;  you  have  no  facul- 
ties that  can  be  improved;  none  that  can  be  useful- 
ly applied  ;  your  reason  is  extinct,  your  moral  life 
is  at  an  end,  and  your  character  is  sealed  up  unto 
the  great  day  of  account. — But  how  consist  these 
things  with  the  ability  to  make  this  an  apology  for 
having  made  a  business  of  pleasure  ?  What,  though 
it  be  not  necessary  that  you  should  labour  for  your 
own  support,  or  for  the  support  of  those  who  are 
dependent  onyou,  are  there  none  to  be  found  who 
stand  in  need  of  your  relief,  your  consolation,  or  your 
assistance?  Are  there  none  who  want  admonition, 
to  whom  your  instruction  might  be  useful,  your 
counsels  acceptable?  Are  there  none  who  might  be 
the  better  for  such  encouragement  as  you  could 
give  them ;  who  would  be  thankful  for  any  testi- 


216  Cliaracteristicks  of  those,  who  are 

mony  of  your  esteem  and  friendship  ?  Are  there 
none  whose  spirits  you  might  cheer,  whose  hearts 
you  might  revive,  whose  darkness  you  might  en- 
lighten, whose  troubles  you  might  mitigate,  whose 
happiness  you  might  augment,  whose  folhes  you 
might  restrain,  whose  virtues  you  might  animate, 
whose  labours  3'ou  might  alleviate,  whose  usefulness 
you  might  extend  ?  In  such  a  world  as  this,  can  you 
look  around  you,  and  not  meet  with  objects  and  op- 
portunities to  find  employment  for  you  beneficence  ? 
You  cannot  go  far,  if  your  eyes  be  not  so  intent 
upon  pleasure,  that  you  see  or  observe  them  not, 
before  they  will  rise  up  and  present  themselves  unto 
you. 

But,  let  the  supposition  (improbable,  or  rather 
impossible  as  it  is)  be  admitted,  that  there  is  no- 
thing wanting,  nothing  due  from  you  to  others  ;  is 
there  nothing  wanting,  nothing  due  unto  yourselves  ? 
have  you  no  work  to  be  done  at  home  ?  is  every  thing 
within  your  own  bieasts  in  that  exact  order  in  which 
it  ought  to  be  ?  is  every  thing  there  in  such  perfec- 
tion as  it  might  be  ?  If  you  think  so,  you  will  have 
enough  to  do  to  undeceive  yourselves,  and  to  acquire 
a  just  acquaintance  with  your  obligations  and  your 
character: — if  you  think  otherwise,  with  what  coun- 
tenance can  you  plead,  though  it  were  to  your  own 
heart  only,  that  there  remained  nothing  to  be  done 
by  you  in  this  world,  but  to  pursue  your  pleasures 
and  amusements?  If  you  have  been  accustomed  to 
conceive,  that  they  who  have  no  need  of  worldly 
occupation  to  procure  for  themselves  the  means  of 
subsistence,  are  at  liberty  to  give  themselves  up  to 
the  pursuit  of  any  pleasures,  that  are  not  in  them- 
selves infamous  and  criminal,  it  will  require  no  little 
time,  and  no  little  pains  to  correct  so  false  and  dan- 
gerous an  idea  of  human  life,  and  human  obligations. 


governed  by  the  Love  of  Pleasure.  217 

There  is  no  living  man,  if  he  has  not  survived  his 
reason  and  his  conscience,  to  whom  there  remains 
not  some  work,  some  duty,  some  indispensable  duty, 
to  be  done.  Is  it  then  any  argument  of  your  love 
to  God,  that  you  neglect  that  duty,  that  your  lives 
are  devoted  to  pleasure,  that  you  live  carelessly, 
that  you  are  lovers  of  your  ownselves  ? 

In  the  second  place,  If  the  love  of  pleasure  so  far 
prevails,  as  to  render  you  discontented  with  the 
condition  and  circumstances  that  God  hath  assigned 
you,  although  the  pleasures  in  themselves  are  all 
lawful  pleasures,  just  in  their  means,  and  moderate 
in  their  measure,  as  well  as  innocent  in  their  na- 
ture, you  are  lovers  of  pleasure,  more  than  lovers  of 
God. 

But,  it  may  be  asked,  can  the  love  of  pleasure, 
can  a  lively  relish  of  the  world  and  its  enjoyments, 
produce  fruits  so  austere  and  ungrateful,  as  the  sen- 
timents of  fretfulness  and  discontent  ?  Can  such 
vexatious  passions  find  admittance  and  entertain- 
ment in  the  heart,  where  the  love  of  pleasure 
reigns  ? — Why,  tell  me  Christians,  do  the  men  of 
pleasure  always  seem  perfectly  contented  with  their 
condition  ? — A  cheerful  complacency  in  appointed 
circumstances,  a  patient  acquiescence  in  the  lot  as- 
signed, are  these  the  inseparable  concomitants  of  the 
love  of  pleasure  ?  are  these  in  general  the  charac- 
leristicks  of  the  men  of  pleasure?  Look  into  the 
world  ;  is  the  continual  endeavour*  the  eager  strug- 
gle, the  various,  and  oftentimes  the  dishonourable 
expedients  that  are  employed  to  enlarge  their  cir- 
cumstances, that  they  may  give  a  looser  rein  unto 
their  pleasures,  are  these  the  symptoms  of  a  heart 
contented  and  at  ease,  acquiescing  in  its  circumstan- 
ces, and  well  pleased  with  its  condition  ?  If  it  were 


218  Cliaracteristicks  of  thosej  who  are 

not  for  the  love  of  pleasure,  "  the  lusts  of  the  flesh, 
the  lusts  of  the  eye,  and  the  pride  of  life,"  should 
we  see  so  much  of  that  restless  and  aspiring  spirit 
which  urges  all  the  various  orders  of  men  to  press 
upwards  into  the  ranks  of  those  who  stand  above 
them?  which  animates  them  so  constantly  to  watch 
every  opportunity,  use  every  interest,  and  employ 
every  art  to  extend  their  influence,  improve  their 
figure,  and  enlarge  their  possessions  ?  What  is  it 
that  excites  this  keen  desire,  that  prompts  these 
strenuous  endeavours  ?  What  is  it  that  gives  such 
vivacity  to  their  admiration,  or  their  wishes,  when 
they  look  up  to  the  condition  of  those  who  stand 
higher  in  the  world  ?  "Has  the  love  of  pleasure  no 
share  in  the  production  of  these  effects  ?  if  other 
causes  do  concur,  yet  is  not  this  the  very  root  of  the 
evil  ?  Is  it  not  the  indulgence  of  themselves,  the 
more  perfect,  the  more  extensive,  or  the  more  ele- 
gant gratification  of  their  appetites,  or  of  their 
imaginations,  that  these  men  aspire  after,  in  their 
eager  strife  to  enlarge  their  worldly  circumstances  ? 
Is  it  not  this  that  makes  them  regard  with  envy 
every  superiour  condition,  and  that  renders  them 
uneasy  in  their  own  ?  Confine  your  desires  within 
the  limits  that  reason  and  religion  have  prescribed, 
and  there  will  be  little  danger  that  your  hearts 
should  ever  become  a  prey  to  the  corrosive  senti- 
ments of  envy  and  discontent.  But,  let  the  love 
of  pleasure  usurp  the  dominion  ;  give  the  reigns  to 
this  pernicious  principle  ;  let  appetite  or  imagination 
govern  you,  and  it  probably  will  not  be  long  that 
your  hearts  will  remain  contented  with  your  condi- 
tion ;  your  ability  must  be  great  indeed,  to  satisfy 
the  demands  of  such  insatiable  and  capricious  go- 
vernours: — it  will  not  then  be  enough,  that,  in  your 
frame,  both  the  animal  and  angelick  natures  are 
united ;  it  will  not  be  enough  that  your  Creator  hath 


i 


governed  by  the  Love  of  Pleasure.  219 

spread  around  jou  innumerable  scenes  of  comfort 
and  of  joy.  When  once  you  have  departed  from 
the  line  of  nature,  and  transgressed  the  bounds  of 
reason,  another  blessing  and  another  may  be  added, 
your  insatiable  desires  will  not  be  satisfied,  till  no- 
thing more  be  left  that  can  be  given,  till  they  have 
stripped  every  other  being  in  the  universe  of  its 
possessions,  and  placed  you  on  the  throne  of  the 
most  high. — Vain  man  !  whilst  devoted  to  the  ser- 
vice of  such  masters,  canst  thou  be  at  peace,  re- 
signed to  thy  situation,  thinking  well  of  it,  as  that 
which  divine  wisdom  hath  made  choice  of  for  thy 
good  ?  or,  whilst  impiously  arraigning  the  appoint- 
ments of  his  providence,  canst  thou  pretend  that 
the  love  of  God  is  the  ruling  affection  of  thy  heart  ? 
— Is  not  a  cheerful  complacency  in  the  circum- 
stances in  which  God  hath  placed  us,  among  the 
certain  fruits  of  that  blessed  affection  ? 

Tell  me,  ye  who  are  discontented  with  your 
condition,  whence  that  discontentment  springs  ?  In- 
quire into  the  causes  of  it ;  indifferent  instances, 
these  may  be  different;  but  in  every  instance,  I  am 
well  persuaded,  this  one  great    reason   will   occur, 

you  are  not  governed  by  the  love  of  God. When 

is  it,  Christians,  that  this  divine  affection  is  least 
lively  and  least  active?  Is  it  not  when  you  have 
been  giving  way  to  such  reflections  on  the  present 
state  of  man,  or  on  your  own  particular  circum- 
stances, as  have  encouraged  the  sentiments  of  dis- 
content to  take  possession  of  your  hearts?  When 
is  it  that  your  hearts  are  most  susceptible  of  the 
love  of  God?  Is  it  not  at  those  happy  seasons,  when 
you  see  most  clearly  what  reason  you  have  to  be 
satisfied  with  this  present  state,  and  with  your  own 
particular  allotment  in  it  ?  and  if  this  be  so,  what 
doubt  can  there  remain,  that  there  is  a  natural  and 
necessary  connexion   between   the  love  of  God  on 


220  Characteristicks  of  those,  who  are 

the  one  hand,  and  a  contented  acquiescence  in  our 
circumstances,  on  the  other  ? — "  My  God,  though  I 
know  a  little,  yet  am  I  greatly  ignorant  of  the 
connexions,  that  I,  and  that  every  thing  that  re- 
spects me  has,  with  that  mighty  system  of  beings, 
in  the  midst  of  which  I  find  myself.  I  am  igno- 
rant of  the  consequences  which  my  present  circum- 
stances may  produce,  but  in  this  I  am  very  happy, 
that  none  of  all  these  things  are  unknown  to  thee, 
and  I  am  well  persuaded,  that  the  God  whom  I 
serve,  is  love.  Dark  and  narrow  as  my  views  are, 
what  an  enemy  might  I,  yea  what  an  enemy  must 
I  have  been  to  those  I  love,  and  to  myself,  had  I 
been  the  disposer  of  my  own  circumstances? — 1  re- 
joice that  they  are  not  of  my  own  choosing,  but  of 
thine.  It  may  happen,  it  does  happen,  that  there 
are  those  things  in  them,  which,  for  the  present, 
are  not  joyous  but  grievous;  yet  this,  my  God,  can- 
not prevent  my  complacency  in  thine  appointments, 
nor  cool  my  affection  unto  thee  !  Whatever  may  be 
the  first  impressions  of  thy  dispensations  towards 
me,  I  am  well  persuaded  that  the  fruits  and  con- 
sequences of  them  are  intended  for  good  ;  that  they 
may  be  good,  and  will  be  good,  to  myself,  and  to 
all  who  are  connected  with  me.  I  rejoice  there- 
fore, O  my  God,  in  all  thy  appointments;  I  envy 
no  other  station ;  my  wishes  stray  not,  and  they 
shall  not  stray  beyond  thy  will ;  for  I  know  that 
what  thou  appointest  to  me  is  best." 

Is  not  this,  my  friends,  the  genuine  language  of 
the  love  of  God?  You  know  it  is;  but  how  diffe- 
rent from  this  is  the  lansfuaffe  and  sentiment  of  dis- 
satisfaction  and  discontent? — "  Thy  sovereignty, 
Lord,  I  must  acknowledge  ;  I  dare  not  dispute  thy 
title  to  dispose  of  me  and  my  affairs.  But  how 
many  things  there  are,  that  would  be  good  for  me. 


governed  hy  the  Love  of  Pleasure*  221 

which  tliou  hast  denied !  And  how  many  things  do 
I  labour  under,  from  which  it  would  be  kind  in 
thee  to  dehver  me  without  delay  !  Thou  hast  en- 
abled me  to  discern  between  the  things  that  diffisr, 
and  inclined  me  to  prefer  those  that  are  most  ex- 
cellent ;  give  me  then  the  powers  that  correspond 
with  this  ability,  or,  let  thy  power  and  providence 
be  directed  according  to  my  wishes  and  desires." — 
Is  not  this  the  natural  iansfuao-e  of  discontent  ?  You 
do  not  think  it  too  highly  coloured  ;  you  do  not 
think  I  have  done  that  character  an  injury ;  but 
would  it  not  be  an  injury  to  impute  such  senti- 
ments to  the  love  of  God  ? — Attend  to  the  cha- 
racter of  your  Lord  and  Master,  in  whom  the 
sentiments  of  love  to  his  heavenly  Father,  though 
so  lively  and  fervent,  were  not  more  sincere  or  more 
powerful,  than  his  resignation  to  the  will  of  God, 
and  his  complacency  in  the  divine  appointments. 
"  The  cup  that  my  Father  hath  given  me,  shall  I 
not  drink  it  ? — Thy  will,  not  mine  be  done  !" — If 
such  were  the  language  of  his  soul  in  circurristances 
of  the  deepest  distress,  and  acutest  suffering,  what 
then.  Christians,  ought  to  be  yours  ?  Does  it  not 
follow,  that  since  contentment  with  our  condition 
is  the  natural  effect  of  the  sentiments  and  affections 
that  we  owe  unto  God,  the  author  of  our  frame,  and 
the  disposer  of  our  circumstances  ;  if,  through  the 
influence  of  any  principle  whatever,  we  become  dis- 
contented with  what  we  are  and  have,  the  love  of 
God  has  not  so  much  power  over  us,  as  that  prin- 
ciple ?  and  if  the  principle  from  which  our  dis- 
content proceeds,  be  the  love  of  pleasure,  then  are 
we  lovers  of  pleasure,   more  than  lovers  of  God  ? 


18 


222         Char  act  eristicks  of  those,  who  are,  &c. 


PRAYER. 

Deeply  sensible  of  the  importance  of  thy  favour, 
O  thou  Almighty  and  ever  living  God,  we  would  be 
anxiously  solicitous  to  keep  ourselves  at  the  great- 
est distance  from  any  of  those  scenes,  pursuits,  or 
engagements  which  migiit  alienate  our  affections 
from  thee,  or  at  all  impair  our  diligence,  zeal,  and 
alacrity,  in  performing  the  work  which  thou  hast 
given  us  to  do  !  Warned  by  the  gracious  admoni- 
tions of  thy  holy  word,  may  we  flee  from  the  wrath 
that  is  to  come ;  and  animated  by  the  exceeding 
great  and  precious  promises  it  contains,  may  it 
henceforth  be  our  supreme  soMcitude  to  perfect 
holiness,  in  thy  fear!  In  all  piety  to  thee  our  God, 
in  all  charity  to  man,  in  the  good  government  of  our 
own  hearts  and  minds,  in  purity,  in  patience,  in 
meekness  and  humility,  in  contentment,  and  in  all 
the  graces  and  virtues  that  compose  the  Christian 
spirit,  may  we  continue  and  abound  still  more  and 
more. 

In  the  day  of  our  prosperity  we  will  rejoice  in 
thee,  as  the  Author  of  all  our  comforts  and  our 
hopes — we  will  bless  and  praise  thee  with  a  pure 
heart  fervently ! — In  the  day  of  adversity,  we  will 
consider;  we  will  humbly  inquire  what  may  be 
the  intention  of  thy  visitations  towards  us. — We  will 
meditate  oh  thy  loving  kindnesses  which  have  been 
ever  of  old  ;  we  will  call  to  mind  our  former  delive- 
rances ;  and  though  our  hearts  should  be  cast  down, 
and  our  souls  disquieted  within  us,  still  will  we 
hope  in  God,  assuredly  trusting  that  we  shall  yet 
praise  him,  who  is  the  health  of  our  countenance 
and  our  God ! 


DISCOURSE     XIII. 


GHARACTERISTICKS     OF    THOSE,    WHO    ARE    GO- 
VERNED    BY    THE    LOVE    OF    PLEASURE. 


PART  II. 


II.    EPIST.    TO    TIMOTHY,    li'l.  4. 

Lovers  of  Pleasure,  more  than  lovers  of  God. 

In  order  to  assist  the  serious  inquirer,  really  desirous 
of  forming  a  just  estimate  of  his  own  character,  we 
endeavoured  in  a  former  Discourse  to  point  out 
some  of  those  marks  or  signatures  of  that  love  of 
pleasure  which  is  inconsistent  with  the  love  of  God  : 
and  we  now  proceed,  in  the  first  place,  to  a  short 
examination  of  what  are  called  the  instrumental 
duties  of  religion,  their  nature  and  object ;  and 
secondly  to  show,  that  if  these  are  neglected  for 
the  sake  of  pleasure,  another  argument  hence  arises, 
that  in  us  the  love  of  pleasure  is  stronger  than  the 
love  of  God. 

The  instrumental  duties  of  religion  then  are 
those,  upon  which  the  formalist,  who  is  more 
concerned  about  the  credit  o(  his  piety  than  the 
truth  of  it,  lays  the  greatest  stress  ;  and  which  he, 
who  affects  a  superiour  greatness  and  freedom  of 
mind,  exempt  from  vulgar  prejudices  and  super- 
stitions, is    very    apt   to    depreciate    and    despise. 


224  Ckaracteristicks  of  those,  mho  are 

They  are  those  duties  by  which  we  may  be  im- 
proved in  rehglous  knowledge,  by  which  the 
spirit  and  temper  of  real  piety  is  assisted  and  pro- 
moted ;  by  which  we  are  confirmed  in  virtuous 
resohitions,  encouraged  to  cultivate  good  affec- 
tions, and  excited  to  persevere  and  abound  in  all 
good  works.  A  good  heart  and  hfe,  being  the  es- 
sentials of  religion,  the  primary  object  of  all  religious 
dispensations; — of  all  religious  ceremonies  and  insti- 
tutions; for  this  reason,  all  those  religious  services 
and  institutions,  which  contribute  to  this  end,  lo 
sanctify  the  hearts  and  lives  of  men,  are  denominated 
instrumental  duties.  They  are  not  duties  of  the 
highest  order,  and  in  whatever  instances  both  can- 
not be  discharged,  instrumental  duties  must  give 
way  to  those  more  important  obligations  to  which 
they  look  as  their  object  and  end.  However,  though 
not  duties  of  the  highest  order,  they  are  duties  not- 
withstanding; and  the  obligations  to  observe  them 
remain  in  full  force,  whenever  those  that  are  superi- 
our  do  not  exclusively  require  our  attention. 

But  it  is  not  merely  for  their  tendency  and  influ- 
ence that  the  oblicration  of  these  duties  is  derived  : 
we  are  bound  to  observe  them,  it  is  true,  because 
they  tend  to  raise  us  to  the  perfection  of  our  nature, 
and  to  promote  the  great  end  of  our  existence  ;  but, 
though  they  had  no  such  tendency  that  we  could 
perceive,  would  any  man  affirm  that  we  were  at  liber- 
ty, as  we  might  choose,  to  worship  God,  or  to  neg- 
lect him;  to  converse  with  the  word  of  God,  or  to 
reject  it  ?  and  to  attend  on  the  institutions  of  reli- 
gion, or  to  forsake  them  ?  Can  the  heart,  which  is 
as  it  ought  to  be,  under  the  power  of  those  good 
affections  in  which  true  holiness  consists,  can  that 
heart  neglect  the  institutions  of  religion,  forget  the 
word  of  God,  or  forbear  the  worship  of  its  Maker.'* 


governed  by  the  Love  of  Pleasure.  225 

A  just  attention  to  the  instrumental  duties  of  religion, 
is  a  natural  and  irrestrainable  expression  of  real, 
genuine,  and  substantial  godliness ;  nor  are  there 
any  of  its  duties  that  are  not,  in  their  general  nature 
at  least,  in  themselves  obligatory.  As  on  the  one 
hand,  there  is  not  an  instance  in  the  higher  order  of 
duties,  but,  while  it  is  in  the  highest  degree  obligato- 
ry in  itself,  is  at  the  same  time  also  an  instrumental 
duty  in  respect  of  others  which  must  be  combined 
with  it  to  make  a  perfect  human  character;  so, 
neither  on  the  other  hand,  are  there  any  instances 
among  the  duties  of  inferiour  order,  but,  while 
they  are  instrumental  in  respect  of  other  duties,  are 
at  the  same  time  obligatory  in  themselves. — The 
love  of  God  is  a  duty  of  the  highest  order,  the  obli- 
gations to  which  can  never  in  any  instance  be  super- 
seded ;  and  yet  the  love  of  God  may  with  great 
propriety  be  considered  as  an  instrumental  duty, 
in  respect  to  the  love  we  owe  to  all  his  creatures; 
for,  does  not  the  love  of  the  Father  tend  to  ex- 
cite, and  cherish,  and  enliven,  our  affection  to  his 
children  ? 

So  again,  the  love  of  our  neighbour,  which  is 
itself  a  duty  of  the  highest  order,  the  obligation 
to  which  cannot  be  dissolved,  may  it  not  also  with 
very  great  propriety  be  considered  as  an  instru- 
mental duty,  in  respect  to  the  love  of  God  ?  for  does 
not  the  love  of  his  creation  tend  to  enkindle  our 
devout  atfections  towards  the  Creator  ?  The  orpeater 
interest  we  have  in  the  welfare  of  his  subjects,  will 
not  our  joy  in  his  government,  and  our  admiration  of 
his  character,  be  the  greater  ?  The  higher  our  de- 
light in  the  happiness  which  they  enjoy,  the  more 
lively  will  be  our  affection  unto  him,  from  vdj^^it 
comes.  In  like  manner,  of  those  that  are  distii^sned 
as  instrumental  duties  of  religion,  there  is  scarcely 


226  Characteristicks  of  those,  who  are 

one  that  is  not  obligatory  in  itself,  abstracting  from 
all  consideration  of  its  influence  and  of  its  tendencies  : 
there  is  not  one,  but  what  is  either  the  genuine  re- 
sult, and  the  natural  concomitant  of  those  good 
affections,  in  which  true  holiness  consists ;  or  is 
bound  upon  us  by  the  express  authority  of  God  ;  or 
is  a  tribute  of  reverence  and  honour  that  would  be 
due  from  us  to  him,  even  though,  in  respect  either 
of  our  character  or  our  happiness,  we  had  no  inte- 
rest in  paying  it.  They  tend  indeed  to  make  us 
better  men,  but  were  it  true,  that  in  other  respects 
we  could  arrive  at  the  same  degree  of  excellence,  to 
which  a  just  attention  to  these  duties  would  pro- 
mote us,  yet,  without  a  just  attention  to  them,  our 
characters  would  not  be  faultless  and  complete. 
Though  praises  and  thanksgivings ;  though  adora- 
tions, tiupplications,  and  confessions;  though  a  fre- 
quent and  reverent  attention  to  the  discoveries 
which  God  hath  made  unto  us,  of  himself,  his  go- 
vernment, and  purposes,  had  no  efficacy  in  them  to  im- 
prove our  hearts  and  minds  ;  to  form  us  to  the  divine 
likeness;  to  quicken  us  in  all  the  duties  of  this  pre- 
sent life,  and  to  promote  our  meetness  for  the  spiri- 
tual enjoyments  of  a  better  life  to  come  ;  they  would, 
notwithstanding,  remain  for  ever,  as  long  as  our  cir- 
cumstances and  relations  are  the  same,  a  decent, 
reasonable,  and  indispensable  acknovvledgmenl  of 
God's  excellencies  and  mercies;  and  of  our  own 
guilt,  weakness,  and  dependence. 

If,  then,  the  instrumental  duties  of  religion  have 
the  authority  of  God,  and,  at  the  same  time,  their 
own  innate  reasonableness,  as  well  as  great  uliiity, 
to  recommend  them,  who  would  depreciate  the 
irtifj^iienlal  duties  of  religion  ?  The  numbci  to 
wliicn^  they  have  been  vainly  mulliplled  ;  the 
foreign  circumstances  with  which   they  have  been 


governed  by  the  Love  of  Pleasure.  227 

presumptuously  combined  ;  the  extravagance  with 
which  they  have  been  magnified  ;  the  unwar- 
rantable confidence  which  the  superstitious  have 
been  taught  to  place  in  them ;  and  the  unrea- 
sonable expectations  from  them  which  they  have 
been  encouraged  to  entertain,  have  contributed, 
it  may  be,  to  sink  them  too  low  in  the  esteem 
of  many,  who,  in  other  respects  think  more  liberal- 
ly, and  upon  the  whole  perhaps,  more  justly,  of  re- 
ligion. 

The  name  also  by  which  they  have  been  distin- 
guished, may  probably  be  another  cause  of  the 
injustice  that  has  been  done  them  :  they  have  been 
regarded  as  merely  instrumental,  as  deriving  all 
their  value  from  the  end  to  which  they  lead,  and 
all  their  obligation  from  the  oblio-ation  of  that  end  : 
and  on  these  principles,  in  the  endeavour  to  obtam 
for  true  religion  a  perfect  triumph  over  superstition, 
they  have  been  denied  the  honour  which  is  justly 
their  due,  and  degraded  into  the  class  of  those 
things,  which,  abstracted  from  their  connexions  and 
influences,  are  in  themselves  of  no  real  worth ; 
whereas  in  fact,  as  you  have  already  seen,  if,  what 
are  called  the  instrumental  duties  of  religion,  are  in 
one  view  the  means  of  holiness,  they  are,  in  another 
view,  a  part  of  true  holiness  itself. 

But,  suppose  it  were  the  fact,  that  the  instru- 
mental duties  of  religion  were  nothino;  more  than 
the  appropriate  means  of  acquirmg,  maintaming, 
and  improving,  that  temper  and  character  in 
which  God  delighteth,  and  which  he  hath  re- 
quired of  us  as  the  condition  of  his  friendship 
and  acceptance  ;  admitting  this,  can  theji>  man 
whom  pleasure  calls  awa)  from  the  observance 
of  them,  be  really  governed  by   the  love  of  God? 


228  Characteristicks  of  those,  mho  are 

or,  if  pleasure  does  not  call  him  from  them,  yet 
if  it  be  suffered  to  disquahfy  him  for  the  accep- 
table and  the  profitable  discharge  of  these  duties, 
is  tijat  man  oroverned  bj  the  love  of  God  ?  If  he 
love  God  he  would  desire  to  be  like  God,  he  would 
be  solicitous  to  please  him,  he  would  seek  his  favour 
with  his  whole  heart.  Without  holiness,  no  man 
can  see  God  ;  without  holiness,  no  man  can  be  like 
God;  without  holiness,  no  man  can  please  God; 
if  he  love  God,  who  is  glorious  in  holiness,  he  will 
love  holiness  itself;  if  he  aspire  after  the  divine  fa- 
vour, he  will  follow  after  holiness;  and  following 
after  holiness,  as  his  chief  desire,  and  his  highest 
interest,  could  he  be  tempted  to  neglect  the  means 
that  must  bring  him  thither?  Anxious  about  the  end, 
would  he  neglect  the  means  ?  Would  he  be  unsoli- 
citous  to  employ  the  means  of  attaining  to  this  ex- 
cellence, or  to  employ  them  in  such  manner  as  should 
promise  the  most  ample  success  ?  Whatever  may 
be  the  cause  of  this  neglect,  is  most  evidently  the 
object  which  he  prefers  to  God.  If  pleasure  be 
the  cause,  pleasure  is  that  object ;  and  the  man,  on 
whom  pleasure  can  prevail,  to  neglect  the  instrumen- 
tal duties  of  religion,  is  a  lover  of  pleasure,  more 
than  a  lover  of  God.  If  he  be  not  satisfied  with 
this  evidence  of  so  unacceptable  a  truth,  it  is  pro- 
bable that  it  will  not  be  very  long  before  he  will 
have  other  evidences  ;  for  it  is  not  likely,  that  the 
man  who  is  at  present  guilty  of  neglecting  the  in- 
strumental duties  of  religion,  if  he  persevere  in  that 
neglect,  will  continue  to  persevere  in  those  ways 
of  wisdom  to  which  they  lead.  The  pleasures 
which  have  now  sufficient  power  to  persuade  him 
to  forsake  the  means,  will,  ere  long,  have  sufficient 
power  to  render  him  indifl'erent  about  the  end. 

If  you  neglect  the  means  of  acquiring  knowledge, 
no  man  expects  that  you  will  ever  become   wise  ;  if 


governed  by  the  Love  of  Pleasure.  229 

you  neglect  the  means  of  acquiring  wealth,  no  man 
expects  that  you  will  ever  be  rich  :  if,  in  this  world 
of  dangers,  you  neglect  the  means  of  preserving 
health,  it  cannot  be  hoped  that  you  will  preserve  it 
long;  neither  can  it  be  hoped,  in  this  world  of  snares 
and  temptations,  that  you  will  preserve  your  virtue 
long,  if  you  neglect  the  instrumental  duties  of  re- 
ligion.— What  think  you  of  the  inference  that  may 
reasonably  be  made  from  that  neglect  at  present  ? 
how  like  you  the  prospect  it  affords,  in  respect  to 
the  time  to  come  ? 

In  the  morning,  when  the  good  man  is  at  his  de- 
votions, where  are  you  ?  Surely  you  do  not  begin 
the  day  with  sensuality  or  vanity;  from  morning 
until  night  you  do  not  devote  it  unto  pleasure.  No, 
it  begins  at  least,  with  business.  With  what  business  ? 
with  such  as  has  the  enlargement  of  your  worldly 
pleasures  for  its  object,  and  the  hope  and  anticipa- 
tion of  that  enlargement  for  the  solace  of  its  la- 
bours.'* If  the  day  begin  thus,  how  does  it  end  ? 
in  unedifying  company,  in  vain  amusements,  in  licen- 
tious entertainments.^  or,  if  perchance  your  narrow- 
ness of  fortune  has  debarred  you  from  these  plea- 
sures, does  it  terminate  in  fretful,  envious,  and  re- 
gretful thoughts  about  them  ?  Are  these  the  avoca- 
tions that  keep  you  from  your  devotions  ?  or,  if 
they  have  not  absolutely  this  power,  do  they  send 
you  to  your  closets  in  a  state  of  such  dissipation, 
insensibility,  and  dulness,  as  to  convert  a  scene,  so 
capable  of  yielding  you  the  sublimest  enjoyments, 
and  the  most  important  benefits,  into  a  tedious,  irk- 
some, and  unprofitable  ceremony  ?  If  it  be  so  with 
you,  what  think  ye  of  yourselves.'^' — are  ve  Chris- 
tians indeed,  or  in  name  only  ?  imitators  of  Christ 
in  reality,  or  merely  in  profession.-*  lovers  of  God, 
or  lovers  of  pleasure  more  ? 

19 


230  Charaderisticks  of  thosef  who  are 

While  the  good  man,  retired  from  the  world,  is 
conversing  with  those  oracles  of  God  that  are  able 
to  make  him  wise  unto  salvation,  with  what  are 
you  conversing?  what  is  it  that  employs  your  lei- 
sure? what  is  it  (iiat  amuses  your  retirements  ?  Is 
it  the  oracles  of  human  folly?  the  oracles  of  mo- 
dern licentiousness  ?  Those  vain  and  trifling  pro- 
ductions of  a  vain  and  triflino;  age,  whose  best  effect 
is  to  amuse  the  passing  hour,  but  whose  influence 
stops  not  there,  since  they  seldom  fail  to  «uggest  the 
most  unjust  ideas  of  human  life,  and  of  Divine  Pro- 
vidence, and  to  awaken  the  most  dangerous,  if  not 
the  most  criminal  affections  oi"  the  human  heart:  is 
it  so  with  you?  Are  these  the  entertainments  that, 
from  day  to  day,  are  robbing  your  immortal  spirits 
of  the  bread  of  life  ?  the  entertainments  that  keep 
the  word  of  God  out  of  your  hand  ?  the  entertain- 
ments that  concur  with  your  secular  employments 
to  leave  you  no  time  to  form  your  souls  to  the 
relish  of  spiritual  enjoyments?  What  think  ye 
of  yourselves  ?  are  you  as  reasonable  as  you  affect 
to  be  ?  as  much  Christians  as  you  would  be  thought 
to  be  ?  are  you  lovers  of  God,  or  lovers  of  pleasure 
more  ? 

Sometimes,  it  may  be,  you  do  retire  from  the 
world,  and  in  that  retirement,  it  may  happen,  that 
you  have  nothing  to  employ  you  more  agreeably 
than  your  own  thoughts.  On  what  is  it  that  they 
fix  themselves  ?  what  is  it  that  directs  and  governs 
them  ?  do  they  ever  glance  upon  your  own  charac- 
ter? if  they  do,  do  they  ever  dwell  there?  Are 
thev  guided  by  reason,  or  imagination  ?  arc  they 
steered  by  any  serious  purpose  of  amendment  or 
advanta'^e,  or  merely  committed  to  the  gales  of  fan- 
cy for  the  present  purpose  of  amusement,  and  turn- 
ed adrift  to  go  wherever  inclination  carries  them? 
Are  they  employed  in  recalling,  in  anticipating,  in 


governed  by  the  Love  of  Pleasure.  231 

picturing  some  scene  of  external  pleasure,  or  world- 
ly entertainment  ?  Are  these  the  thoughts  that  pre- 
clude the  study  of  your  real  characters  from  your 
attention,  and  hide  vou  from  the  observation  of  your 
own  minds?  Are  these  the  tlioughts  that  engioss 
the  sacred  moments  which  ought  to  be  employed  in 
communing  with  your  hearts,  in  considering  your 
ways,  in  rectifying  what  is  amiss  in  them,  and  in 
confirming  what  is  right?  is  this  the  case  with  you? 
what  think  ye  of  yourselves?  is  the  favour  of  God 
your  supreme  concern  ?  is  the  likeness  of  God  the 
chief  object  of  your  solicitude  ?  are  you  lovers  of 
God,  or  lovers  of  pleasure  more  ? 

You  are  not  among  the  number  of  those  who 
make  the  day  of  God  a  day  of  pleasure,  who  rest 
from  the  works  of  this  world,  for  no  other  end,  than 
to  devote  themselves  to  its  amusements.  When  I 
look  for  vou  in  this  house  of  God,  there  are  not 
many  of  you  whom  I  aaj  accustomed  to  find  want- 
ing here.  But  think,  my  friends,  what  are  the  dis- 
positions with  which  you  come  hither  ?  Do  you 
come  with  your  minds  fatigued,  or  your  thoughts 
dissipated,  by  your  last  night's  pleasures  and  amuse- 
ments? or  with  your  hearts  full  of  the  entertain- 
ments you  are  to  return  to  on  the  morrow  ?  While 
you  stand  here  as  worshippers  of  God,  are  your 
hearts  really  worshipping  some  idol  of  worldly  plea- 
sure? While  you  sit  here,  as  God's  people  sittetb, 
apparently  attending  to  the  dispensing  of  his  word, 
are  your  thoughts  roving  into  other  scenes,  and  in 
quest  of  such  entertainment  as  shall  enable  you  to 
support  the  tedious  hours  that  you  spend  heie  ? 
When  you  go  hence,  do  you  reckon  the  duties  of 
the  day  discharged,  and  instead  of  consecrating  the 
remainder  to  reflection  and  devotion,  do  you  give  it 
unto  pleasure  ?     Do  you  come  hither  to  atone,  as 


2.32  Characteristicks  of  those,  who  are 

jou  imagine,  for  a  custom  with  which  you  are  not 
perfectly  satistied,  ar)d  to  which  you  could  not 
otherwise  reconcile  your  minds  of  postponino;  all 
thoughts  of  God  on  every  other  day,  to  every 
other  object?  Do  you  corae  hither  not  to  be  edi- 
fied, but  amused  ?  Do  you  come  hither  with  no 
higher  wish  than  to  be  entertained  tor  the  time 
you  spend  here  ?  If  you  find  that  you  must  in- 
deed answer  in  the  affirmative  to  any  of  these  in- 
terrogatories, let  me  prevail  with  you,  for  once,  to 
keep  the  answer  of  your  consciences  in  view,  and, 
when  you  go  hence,  to  ask  yourselves,  in  the  re- 
tirements of  this  day,  another  question,  viz.  Are 
you  really  godly,  or  do  you  only  wear  the  form  of 
godliness  ?  Are  you  lovers  of  God,  or  lovers  of 
pleasure  more  ? 

My  friends,  you  have  much  to  do  with  God  ; 
yourselves  and  every  thing  in  which  you  have  any 
interest,  are  absolutely  in  his  hands.  You  have  far 
more  important  transactions  with  him  that  any  that 
you  are  conscious  of  in  this  world  ;  it  will  not  be 
very  long  before  the  youngest  of  this  audience  will 
find  it  so.  The  time  will  come,  I  could  tell  the  day 
beyond  which  it  will  not  be  deferred,  but  the  day 
before  which  it  will  not  come,  I  cannot  tell;  the 
time  will  come,  when  you  will  find  this  world  van- 
ishing away,  and  another  opening  upon  you,  this 
world  of  trial  endirjg  for  ever  unto  you,  and  a  sense 
of  everlasting  recompense  commencing,  lou  know 
as  well  as  1  do,  would  to  God  that  you  would  let 
the  idea  sink  deep  into  your  hearts,  that  the  round 
of  this  world's  pleasures  will  not  last  for  ever.  The 
rose  will  fade,  the  eyes  grow  dim,  and  the  heart 
grow  faint,  and  all  that  is  of  this  world  become  in- 
capable of  administering,  even  a  momentary  cordial 
or  amusement.     You  know   as  well  as  I  do.  would 


governed  by  the  Love  of  Pleasure.  233 

to  God  that  you  would  let  the  thought  take  pos- 
session of  your  souls  !  that  the  time  will  come 
when  the  warmest  appetites  will  be  cold,  when 
the  acutest  senses  will  be  dull,  when  the  liveliest 
fancy  will  be  languid,  when  the  giddiest  sinner  will 
be  serious,  and  the  drowsiest  conscience  awake. 
The  time  will  come,  of  which  your  preachers  have 
so  often  warned  you,  when  your  bodies  shall  be  un- 
distinguishable  from  the  dust  that  flies  before  the 
wind,  and  when  that  dust  shall  have  as  much  in- 
terest in  the  gayeties  and  sensualities  of  those  upon 
whom  it  falls,  as  you  !  Long  before  that  time  ar- 
rives, the  day  may  come  upon  you,  when,  on  a 
dying  bed,  while  you  watch  for  the  moment  that  is 
to  stop  that  beating  heart,  you  shall  look  back 
upon  the  life  that  you  have  spent,  and  forward  in- 
to the  eternity  that  is  to  receive  you.  In  that 
awful  season,  whence  will  you  derive  your  com- 
fort ?  to  whom  will  you  apply  yourselves — to  plea- 
sure, or  to  God?  I  have  seen  devotion  triumph  in 
the  arms  of  death,  but  you  need  not  wait  until  that 
awful  period,  to  be  perfectly  persuaded,  that  plea- 
sure cannot  triumph  there.  It  is  not  the  remem- 
brance, that  you  have  loved  pleasure  more  than 
God,  that  can  give  you  confidence  when  you  are 
entering  into  his  presence  :  it  is  not  this  conviction 
that  can  comfort  your  attending  friends  :  if  you  love 
them,  if  you  love  your  own  souls,  let  God  have 
your  first  attentions,  let  your  duty  regulate  your 
pleasures. 

The  considerations  that  have  been  addressed  to 
you,  are  considerations  by  which  you  ought  to  be 
impressed— you  think  so  yourselves.  Some  of  you, 
perhaps,  are  impressed  by  them.  Cherish  the  im- 
preibion.  No  artifice  has  been  employed  to  fix  any 
false  impression  on  you.     It  is  the  simple  truth  that 


234  Characteristicks  of  those,  who  are 

has  been  set  before  you,  you  will  find  it  to  have 
been  such,  ere  long.  Carry  the  ideas,  carry  the 
sentiments  that  have  been  suggested  to  you,  into 
every  scene  of  pleasure  into  which  you  go;  that 
you  may  never  at  any  time  be  affected  by  such 
scenes,  otherwise  than  you  ought  to  be  affected ; 
that  your  pleasures  may  never  be  of  any  other 
kind,  or  of  any  other  measure,  of  repetition,  or  con- 
currence, than  is  innocent  and  laudable;  but  being 
perfectly  consistent  with  the  spirit  of  devotion,  and 
with  all  that  the  Lord  your  God  requires  of  you, 
while  you  live  may  be  pursued  without  remorse  or 
suspicion,  and,  when  you  die,  reflected  on  without 
apprehension  or  regret. 


PRAYER. 

O  Lord  God  Almighty — we  would  not  dare 
to  come  into  thy  presence,  or  to  cast  ourselves  at 
thy  footstool,  but  in  the  exercise  of  reverence  and 
godly  fear.  When  we  stand  before  our  Maker,  we 
would  be  clothed  with  humility,  and  sunk  into  the 
deepest  sentiments  of  self  abasement.  Thine  eye 
penetrates  into  the  inmost  recesses  of  the  soul,  thou 
searchest  the  heart,  and  triest  the  reins  of  thy 
worshippers,  even  the  heavens  are  not  clean  in  thy 
sight,  and  thou  char2;est  thine  iVngels  with  folly. 
What  then  is  man,  that  thou  shouldst  be  mindful 
of  him,  or  what  the  son  of  man,  tliat  he  should  hope 
for  thine  acceptance  of  his  services  ?  We  do  not 
hope,  by  any  services  of  ours,  however  serious,  de- 
vout, or  faitliful,  to  add  any  thing  unto  thee,  for 
tliou,  O  Lord,  art  infinitely  exalted  above  all  adora- 
tion, blessing,  and  praise  !  Our  desire  and  hope  is, 
that  by  these  means  we  may  attain  to  thy  liker.ess 
and  t!iy  favour;  and,  that,  by  our  attendance  on  the 


governed  by  the  Love  of  Pleasure.  235 

ordinances  of  thine  earthly  courts,  we  may  be  quali- 
fied for  the  services  of  that  nobler  temple  into  which 
nothing  enters  that  defiles !  This  thou  hast  encour- 
aged us  to  expect  from  our  devout  approaches  to 
thee,  and  aspiring  after  these  blessings,  which  we 
esteem  as  our  highest  privilege,  we  thank  thee 
that  it  is  permitted  us  to  pour  out  our  hearts  be- 
fore thee. 

May  no  allurements  of  this  world  ever  tempt  us 
to  forsake  or  to  neglect  the  assembling  of  ourselves 
together  in  acts  of  religious  worship ;  and  may  it 
be  ever  our  sincere  desire  and  steady  resolution  to 
bring  forth  fruits  meet  unto  repentance ;  meet  for 
the  invaluable  privileges  which  in  the  gospel  we 
enjoy;  and  do  thou,  O  God,  strengthen  us  with 
strength  in  our  souls,  prosper  our  endeavours  to 
walk  worthy  of  the  Lord,  unto  all  well  pleasing, 
and  to  stand  in  all  thy  statutes  and  thine  ordinances 
blameless. 


DISCOURSE    XIV. 

ON    THE    APPEARANCE    OF    CHRIST,     AFTER    HIS 
RESURRECTION,    TO    MARY    MAGDALENE. 


PART   I. 


John  xx.  11 17. 

But  Mary  stood  without  at  the  sepulchre  weeping :  and  as  she  wept 
she  stooped  down  and  looked  into  the  sepulchre,  12.  And  seeth  two 
Angels  in  white,  sitting  the  one  at  the  head,  and  the  other  at  the 
feet,  where  the  body  of  Jesus  had  Iain  :  13.  And  they  said  unto  her. 
why  weepest  thou  ?  She  said  unto  them,  because  they  have  taken 
away  ray  Lord,  and  I  know  not  where  they  have  laid  him.  14. 
And  when  she  had  thus  said,  she  turned  herself  back,  and  saw 
Jesus  standing,  and  knew  not  that  it  was  Jesus.  15.  Jesus  said  unto 
her,  Woman,  why  weepest  thou  ?  Whom  seekest  thou  ?  She,  sup- 
posing him  to  have  been  the  gardener,  saith  unto  him.  Sir,  if  thou 
have  borne  him  heuce,  tell  me  where  thou  hast  laid  him,  and  I  will 
take  him  away.  16.  Jesus  said  unto  her,  Mary!  She  turned  her- 
self and  said  unto  him,  Rabboni !  Which  is  to  say,  Master. 

These  words  we  find  in  the  history  of  Christ's  re- 
surrection. However  marvellous  that  event  was  in 
itself,  yet  the  circumstances  in  which  it  is  describ- 
ed are  so  natural  and  probable,  and  the  narration  of 
it  so  plain  and  simple,  that  these  things  will  avail 
more  to  procure  it  the  attention  and  the  belief  ot 
every  reasonable  mind,  than  a  thousand  artificial 
difficulties   or    sophistical    objections   to    undermine 


On  the  Appearance  of  Christ,  &-c.  237 

its  credibility.  As  this  part  of  the  history  is  not  the 
least  beautiful,  and  as  it  appears  neither  barren  of 
serious  reflection,  nor  incapable  of  moral  application, 
I  have  chosen  it  for  the  subject  of  these  Discourses. 
Let  us,  therefore,  review  it  more  particularly,  open- 
ing the  ideas,  and  intermingling  such  observations,  as 
may  tend  at  the  same  time  to  fix  and  enliven  our 
conceptions  of  the  fact ;  to  illustrate  the  sense  and 
sentiments  of  the  passage,  or  to  point  out  the  uses 
to  which  it  may  be  applied. 

Two  days  had  now  passed  since  those  pious  wo- 
men, who  followed  Jesus  from  Galilee  to  Jerusalem, 
had  attended  the  mournful  scene  of  his  crucifixion, 
and  had  left  the  body  of  their  Lord  in  the  Arima- 
thean's  tomb.  The  sabbath  interrupted  those  tes- 
timonies of  respect,  which  they  owed  to  the  re- 
mains of  a  friend  so  highly  honoured,  and  so  much 
beloved.  When  the  sabbath  was  elapsed,  and  it 
was  now  lawful  for  them  to  proceed  in  their  pre- 
parations to  embalm  tlie  body,  early  in  the  follow- 
ing morning,  Mary  Magdalene,  with  the  other  wo- 
men, repaired  to  the  Sepulchre.  They  saw  the  stone 
taken  away  from  the  door  of  the  sepulchre,  and  they 
found  that  the  body  was  not  there.  Perplexed  at 
this  discovery,  Mary,  returning  to  Peter  and  John, 
they  hastened  with  her  to  the  Sepulchre.  After 
they  had  satisfied  themselves  of  the  truth  of  her 
report,  they  believed  the  fact  to  be  as  she  had  said, 

I     that  the   body  was   conveyed  to   some  other    place. 

f-  They  thought  it,  probably,  a  vain  attempt  to  make 
any  further  search,  and,  disconsolate  and  afflicted, 
returned  to  their  own  homes. 

Mary's  zeal,  however,  could  not  so  rest  satisfied. 
Pondering  in  her  heart,  what  accident  could  have 
happened  to  her  Lord,  Mary  stood  weeping  by  the 

20 


238  On  the  Appearance  of  C%rist,  after 

tomb.  Distracted  amidst  a  thousand  perplexing 
thoughts,  her  imagination  was  unable  to  fix  itself 
on  any  She  began,  perhaps,  to  question  whether 
her  senses  might  not  have  misinformed  her;  she 
ho})ed,  she  wished,  she  was  ahnost  ready  to  be- 
heve,  that  her  Lord  might  still  be  there.  Her  tears 
were  yet  flowing,  and  her  heart  unsettled,  when,  to 
satisfy  herself,  she  looked  once  more  into  the  Se- 
pulchre. She  found  not  indeed  her  Lord,  but  she 
saw  there  those  celestial  Spirits  that  had  ministered 
unto  him.  Jesus  had  risen  from  the  grave,  accord- 
ing to  his  prediction. 

His  disciples  seem  not  to  have  had  the  least  ex- 
pectation of  an  event  like  this,  and  bewildered  by 
their  wrong  conceptions  concerning  the  nature  of 
the  Messiah's  kingdom,  they  were  unprepared  to 
receive  the  intelligence.  These  celestial  spirits 
therefore  remained  here,  to  receive  the  visit  which 
the  women  meant  unto  their  Lord,  to  explain  to 
them  how  it  came  to  pass  that  their  Master  was  not 
there,  to  procure  a  serious  regard  to  his  resurrec- 
tion bv  the  impressive  solemnity  of  this  testimony, 
and  to  suggest  to  their  minds,  or  to  recall  to  their 
remembrance,  such  considerations  as  might  confirm 
their  faith  in  it,  and,  through  their  report,  facilitate 
the  assent  of  their  brethren. 

These  observations  are  justified  by  the  discourse 
that  passed  between  the  angels  and  the  women,  dur- 
ing Mary's  absence,  whilst  she  was  returning  to 
the  city  to  inform  the  disciples  that  the  Sepulchre 
had  been  opened,  and  that  the  body  had  been  con- 
veyed away. 

By  whatever  means,  or  for  whatever  reasons 
these  illustrious  Ministers  had  been  unobserved   bv 


his  Resnrrectiony  to  Mary  Magdalene.  239 

Peter  and  John,  they  concealed  not  themselves  from 
so  disconsolate  a  mourner  as  Maiy.  Had  she  look- 
ed again  into  the  tomb,  and  seen  nothing  there  but 
the  grave  clothes  of  her  Lord,  when  afterwards 
she  was  suddenly  addressed  by  him,  her  surprize 
perhaps  might  liave  overpowered  her,  or  hei-  doubt 
and  despair  might  have  been  so  confirmed,  that  she 
would  have  been  incapable  of  giving  credit  to  her 
senses,  and  would  have  treated  the  salutation  of 
her  Master  as  a  vain  apparition,  the  illusive  creature 
of  her  own  imaofination.  These  courteous  stran- 
gers  therefore,  kindly  revealed  themselves  to  her, 
they  seemed  to  take  a  friendly  part  in  her  distress, 
and  compassionately  asked  her,  Woman,  why  weep- 
est  thou  ?  Because,  said  she,  in  the  fulness  ol  her 
heart,  in  all  the  artless  simplicity  of  sorrow,  be- 
cause they  have  taken  away  my  Lord,  and  I  know 
not  where  they  have  laid  him 

Did  Mary  imagine,  that  the  Arimathean  had 
prevented  her  in  those  last  sad  testimonies  of  re- 
gard, that  she  meant  to  her  deceased  Lord  ?  Did 
she  fancy  that  he  had  already  done  the  last  kind 
offices  to  the  lifeless  body,  and  conveyed  it  to 
some  other  mansion  in  the  house  of  death,  where 
it  might  for  ever  lodge,  forgotten  and  undis- 
turbed ?  Or,  is  it  more  probable  that  she  pairsted 
to  herself,  that  precious  corpse,  consecrated  as 
it  was  by  the  pure,  the  good,  the  pious  spirit,  by 
which  it  had  so  lately  been  animated,  exposed  to 
the  malicious  insults  of  insatiable  persecutors  ? 
or  abandoned  in  some  untVequenlcd  solitude,  neg- 
lected and  unknown  ?  Whatever  were  the  par- 
ticular conceptions  which  dictated  these  words, 
it  is  plain  that  they  were  exceedingly  distressful; 
for,  no  sooner  had  she  mentioned  the  cause  of  her 
affliction  than  she  turned  herself,  it  uiight  be,  to  con- 


240  On  the  Appearance  of  Christ,  after 

ceal  tlie  excess  of  her  grief.  Jesus  was  behind  her, 
but  she  knew  not  that  it  was  he.  Bhnded  by  her 
tears,  or  overwhelmed  by  her  sorrow,  she  at  first 
knew  not  either  his  appearance  or  his  voice.  She 
took  him  for  the  keeper  of  the  garden;  she  thought 
no  one  needed  to  ask  her  why  she  wept,  or  whom 
she  sought;  tell  me.  Sir,  said  she,  if  thou  hast  borne 
him  hence,  where  thou  hast  laid  him,  and  I  will  take 
him  away.*  Christ,  not  untouched  with  the  feeling 
of  her  iutirmilies,  is  no  longer  able  to  sustain  the  trial 
of  her  affection.  He  saw  her  anguish,  and  said  to 
her,  in  a  voice  that  carried  deep  conviction  and  com- 
fort to  her  heart,  "  Mary  !*' — '  Look  at  me  Mary, 
dost  thou  not  know  thy  Lord  ?  1  see  the  sincerity 
and  zeal  of  thy  affection,  and  thou,  Mary,  hast  the 
honour  of  being  the  first  eye-witness,  that  he  who 
was  dead  is  alive  again,  and  lives  for  evermore  !' 

It  has  generally  been  supposed,  but  it  is  undoubt- 
edly anerrour.  that  the  Mary  who  wept  at  the  tomb 
of  Jesus,  was  the  once  licentious  Mary  who  had  shed 
tears  of  penitence  on  his  feetf  Mary  Magdalene, 
on  the  contrary,  as  appears   from  the  scripture  ac- 


*  There  is  a  siagiilar  beauty  in  this  abrupt  address  of  Mary. — She 
enters  into  no  explanation  respecting  the  person  she  sought.  So 
entirely  was  her  mind  absorbed  by  one  great  overwhelming  idea — by 
the  excess  of  her  grief  and  tiie  destruction  of  all  her  hopes,  that  she 
could  not  conceive  the  possibility  of  any  oi\c  mistaking  the  cause  A 
very  striking  proof  surely,  among  innumerable  others,  of  the  perfect 
authenticity  of  the  narrative. — Editor. 

t  The  learned  and  excellent  Dr.  Lardner  addressed  a  pamphlet  in 
the  year  17r)8  to  the  benevolent  Mr.  Hanway,  who,  however  worthy, 
was  not  a  Scripture  Critick.  on  the  impropriety  in  the  thing  itself,  as 
well  a"  on  the  injustice  done  to  the  memory  of  this  excellent  person  by 
hi«  intention  of  calling  the  house  to  be  erected,  for  the  reception  of 
penitent  prostitutes,  *' a  Magdnlens  House."  In  this  pamphlet  the 
Mibject  is  thorousliiy  examined,  and  it  is  proved  beyond  the  possibility 
of  a  doubt,  that  Mary  Magdalene  is  always  mentioned  by  the  sacred 
writers  with  the  greatest  respect.     After  a  very  minute  and  accurate 


his  Resurrection,  to  Mary  Magdalene.  241 

count  of  her,  was  a  woman  of  respectable  character, 
and  of  distinguished  rank,  and  a  principal  supporter 
of  Christ  in  his  travels.  We  are  expressly  told, 
however,  that  she  had  been  a  demoniack,  that  is,  a 
lunatick,  and  that  she  had  been  healed  by  the  hand  of 
Jesus. 

What  was  her  gratitude  we  have  seen,  so  fervent, 
and  lively,  that  it  scarcely  can,  although  in  reason  it 
surely  ought,  to  be  exceeded  by  theirs,  in  whom  his 
gospel  has  healed  the  deadlier  maladies  of  the  mind. 
Abstracted  from  the  consideration  of  the  particular 
obligation  which  she  owed  to  Jesus,  Mary's  attach- 
ment to  him  appears  in  every  view  of  it,  respectable 
and  amiable: — let  us  ask  ourselves,  would  such  sen- 
timents of  love  and  veneration  add  less  grace  to  our 
characters?  Would  they  be  less  amiable  and  respec- 
table in  us  ?  Let  the  answer  of  our  consciences 
determine  our  conduct. 

I  would  now  suggest  a  few  thoughts  on  the  causes, 
and  therefore  on  the  reasonableness  of  Mary's  joy  in 
the  discovery  that  was  made  to  her,  that  her  Lord 
was  risen  from  the  dead. 

1st.  The  resurrection  of  Christ  was  a  subject  of 
rejoicing  to  her,  because  it  was  the  restoration  of  a 

examiuation  of  the  subject,  Dr.  Lardner  proceeds  as  follows  ;  "  Let  us 
now  sum  up  the  evidenre.  Mary  of  IMagdala  was  a  woman  of  distinc- 
tiou,  and  very  easy  in  her  worldly  circumstances.  For  a  while  she  had 
laboured  under  some  bodily  indisposition,  which  our  Lord  miraculously 
healed.  For  which  benefit  she  was  ever  after  very  thankful.  So  far 
as  we  know,  her  conduct  was  always  regular,  and  free  from  censure. 
And  we  may  reasonably  believe,  that  after  her  acquaintance  with  our 
Saviour,  it  was  edifying  and  exemplary.  I  conceive  of  her  as  a  woman 
of  fine  understanding,  and  known  virtue,  and  discretion,  with  a  dignity 
of  behaviour  becoming  her  age,  her  wisdom,  and  her  high  station." 
Editor. 


242  On  the  Appearance  of  Christ,  after 

most  respectable  and  amiable  friend,  highly  honoured 
and  affectionately  beloved  by  her.  In  Mary's  mind, 
the  light  of  reason  had  been  obscured,  perhaps  near- 
ly extinguished.  As  he  went  about  doing  good,  Jesus 
met  this  unhappy  maniack.  She  was  a  proper  subject 
on  whom  to  exert  the  miraculous  power,  which,  in 
confirmation  of  his  mission  from  on  high,  he  was 
enabled  to  exercise:  ho  saw,  pitied,  and  healed  her. 
Her  heart  was  not  ungrateful  ;  she  knew  the  value 
of  the  gift  of  reason  ;  she  was  not  insensible  to  the 
deplorable  situation  of  those,  in  whom  it  is  enfeebled 
or  bewildered  :  she  felt  her  obligations  to  God  the 
gracious  author,  and  to  Christ,  the  kind  and  com- 
passionate instrument  of  her  deliverance. 

From  the  sacred  history  it  appears  that  she  had  no 
occupation,  and  no  family  to  attach  her  to  any  special 
residence;  that  her  years  had  already  given  her  a 
title  to  respect,  and  that  her  circumstances  were  not 
only  easy,  but  even  affluent,  Very  naturally  there- 
fore, very  innocently,  and  very  laudably,  and  without 
the  infringement  or  neglect  of  any  social  duty,  from 
the  moment  of  her  recovery,  she  seems  to  have  de- 
voted herself  to  a  faithful  attendance  upon  him,  to 
whom  she  owed  the  resurrection  of  her  intellectual 
and  moral  life.  Thus,  as  he  travelled  from  city  to 
city,  in  execution  of  the  high  commission  which  God 
had  given  him,  to  bear  witness  of  the  truth,  she  lost 
no  opportunity  of  hearing  the  lessons  which  he  had 
enabled  her  to  understand,  or  of  administering  to 
}jis  suppoit  and  comfort  as  his  circumstances  might 
require.  In  this  frequent  intercourse,  what  an  infi- 
nite variety  of  events  must  have  been  daily  multiply- 
ing the  evidences  of  his  divine  authority  !  what  dis- 
coveries of  his  transcendent  excellence  to  magnify 
her  respect,  and  to  increase  hev  veneration  for  Jesus  ! 
Thus  knowing  him,  and   tlius  obliged  to  him,  what 


his  Resurrection,  to  Mary  Magdalene.  243 

must  have  been  the  feelings  of  her  heart  when  she 
heard  that  he  was  condemned;  when  she  saw  him 
crucified;  when  she  attended  his  entombment ;  when 
she  came  to  embalm  his  body,  and  found  it  removed, 
whither,  and  by  whom,  she  knew  not! 

Have  you  ever  seen  the  wise,  the  good,  the  friend- 
ly, those  to  whose  councils  and  beneficence  you  had 
owed  substantial  and  numerous  obligations ;  to  whom 
you  had  long  been  united  in  the  bonds  of  sincere, 
aliectionate,  and  respectful  friendship;  have  you  ever 
seen  them,  have  you  ever  bid  adieu  to  them,  as  you 
saw  them  lying  on  the  very  margin  of  the  grave? — 
When  you  had  given  them  your  last  kind  wishes, 
and  your  last  lingering  look,  have  you  suddenly 
been  called  back,  to  receive  them  as  it  were,  alive 
from  the  dead  ?  What  your  hearts,  at  that  moment, 
conceived  and  dictated,  may  help  you  to  form  some 
faint  ideas  of  the  pious  joy  that  agitated  the  heart 
of  Mary  ?  yet,  though  from  the  grave  itself  you  had 
literally  received  such  a  friend,  unless  your  obliga- 
tions had  been  equal  to  her  obligations,  and  your 
friend  equal  unto  her  friend,  your  sentiments,  how- 
ever alike  in  kind,  could  not,  in  degree,  have  been 
equal  unto  hers. 

2d.  The  resurrection  of  Christ  was  a  subject  of 
rejoicing  unto  Mary,  in  as  much  as  it  was  to  her,  and 
not  to  her  only,  but  to  the  whole  world,  the  restora- 
tion of  a  wise,  a  kind,  and  faithful  instructer. 

Mary  knew  how  to  value  such  a  blessing.  The 
times  in  which  she  lived,  rendered  such  a  blessing 
particularly  valuable.  The  Scribes,  "  taught  not 
with  authority  ;"  the  Pharisees  "said,  and  did  not;" 
they  "  bo(jnd  heavy  burdens"  on  their  disciples ;  their 
characters  corresponded  not  with  their  requisitions. 


244  On  the  Appearance  of  Christ,  after 

They  knew  little  of  the  rehgion  of  reason  ;  they  urn 
derstood  not  their  own  scriptures;  they  inculcated 
"  for  divine  commandments,  the  traditions  of  men." 
In  the  lessons  of  such  teachers,  Mary  must  often  have 
regretted  the  want  of  light  and  energy;  and  how 
happy  must  she  have  thought  herself,  how  ardently 
must  she  have  rejoiced,  for  the  sake  of  others,  as 
well  as  on  her  own  account,  that  in  Jesus  she  had 
found  a  reliorious  teacher,  concerninof  whom  it  was 
strictly  true,  what  the  officers  and  the  chief  priests 
had  affirmed,  that  never  "  man  spake  like  this  man." 
To  see  this  licrht  of  the  world  extinguished  ;  the  im- 
provement  which  her  own  character  and  comfort 
might  have  derived  from  his  services,  for  ever  at 
an  end  ;  all  the  hopes  which  from  his  ministry  she 
had  formed  in  behalf  of  truth  and  virtue,  and  of 
every  human  interest  extinct  for  ever:  crucified  by 
the  world  which  he  loved,  which  he  blest,  which 
he  enlightened,  which  he  prayed  for,  which  he  guided 
by  his  example,  as  well  as  by  his  counsels;  what 
hope,  what  interest  was  buried, — in  Mary's  view  for 
ever  buried,  in  the  tomb  of  Jesus!  Breakup  that 
tomb,  set  the  captive  free,  give  him  back  again  unto 
the  world,  and  how  joyful  is  the  revolution !  The 
clouds  that  hung  upon  the  sepulchre  of  Joseph  were 
dark  indeed  and  lowering,  but  the  darker  they  were, 
so  much  briofhter  was  the  scene  which  the  mornins: 
of  the  third  day  opened,  and  the  livelier  the  joys 
that  it  enkindled  within  Mary's  heart. — That  day, 
by  anticipation,  renewed  to  her  the  edification  and 
the  comfort,  which  heretofore  she  had  so  often  ex- 
perienced, in  attending  on  the  discources  of  her  Lord. 
That  day  gave  renewed  life  to  the  hopes,  which  the 
crucifixion  of  Christ  had  extinguished,  that  this  friend 
of  hers,  would  also,  in  respect  of  all  their  most  im- 
portant interests,  be  a  great  and  lasting  benefit  to 
the  whole  human  race. 


his  Besurredion,  to  Mary  Magdalene.        2-13 

What  a  transport  !  how  jcist  the  ground  on 
which  it  stood  !  how  reasonable  any  elevation  to 
which  it  might  have  risen,  that  this  light  of  the 
world,  the  wisest  counsellor,  the  best  informed, 
and  best  authenticated  instructer;  the  safest,  most 
amiable,  and  most  animating  Exemplar  of  mankind, 
having  lost  his  life,  unjustly,  by  the  iiands  of  wicked 
men,  should  have  regained  it  speedily  by  the  power 
of  God,  and  have  returned  (as  in  Mary's  apprehen- 
sion at  the  moment  assuredly  he  had  returned)  to 
renewed  intercourse  with  the  world,  to  bless  them 
probably  for  a  long,  certainly  for  an  indefinite  sea- 
son, with  his  preaching  and  example. To  a  mind 

which  had  been  taught  by  Jesus  the  value  of  a  life 
to  come  ;  to  a  heart,  which  had  learnt  from  him,  to 
take  a  cordial  interest  in  the  welfare  of  all  his  breth- 
ren;  what  joy  to  hail  his  return  from  the  realms 
where  death  had  confined  him,  to  give  incontroverti- 
ble evidence,  that  death  is  not  the  end  of  man,  and 
that  the  way  of  duty  is  likewise  the  way  to  make 
even  death  a  blessinof  ? 

If  our  hearts  are  impressed  as  they  ought  to  be, 
we  shall  sympathize  with  Mary's  joy  on  this  occa- 
sion ;  and  although  we  know,  what  she  did  not 
at  first  know,  that  the  resurrection  of  Christ  from 
the  dead  was  not  designed  to  prolong  his  residence 
in  this  world,  yet  shall  we  rejoice  and  give  thanks, 
that  his  renewed  life,  though  for  no  long  continu- 
ance on  earth,  was  the  means  of  qualifying  his 
disciples  for  the  ministry  to  which  they  were  ap- 
pointed, and  (considering  the  consequences  of  that 
qualification)  the  means  also  of  protracting  the 
benefits  of   his  ministry  to  this,  and  through   this, 

to    the    latest    generations. !f  then,  in    Mary's 

friendship  we  see  any  thing  respectable  and  amia- 
ble ;    and,  however   dark   the   intervening  scenes, 
21 


246  On  the  Appearance  of  Christ,  after 

any  thing  in  its  final  issue,  desirable  and  happy,  let 
us  take  care  that  our  friendships  be  only  with 
the  wise  and  good. 

Again,  if  in  the  interest  which  Mary  took  in 
the  information  and  good  conduct  of  mankind  there 
appears  to  be  any  thing  respectable  and  amiable, 
we  must  of  course  believe  that  herein  she  is  not 
unworthy  of  our  imitation.  It  is  easy  to  rejoice 
in  the  good  instructions  that  are  given  to  the  world, 
and  in  the  good  examples  that  are  set  before  it ; 
but  this  will  not  discharge  our  duty  :  So  far  as 
God  hath  qualified  us  for  it,  such  instructions  must 
be  given  in  our  own  persons  to  those  who  want 
and  will  receive  them,  and  such  examples  must 
be  exhibited  to  all  men,  in  our  own  temper,  and 
in  our  own  lives. 


PRAYER. 

Happy  are  our  eyes  for  they  see,  and  hap- 
py are  our  ears  for  they  hear,  what  Kings  and 
Prophets  desired  to  see,  yet  saw  not,  and  to  hear, 
yet  did  not  hear  them  !  We  rejoice  in  God,  that 
he,  who  at  sundry  times  and  in  divers  manners, 
spake  unto  the  Fathers  in  times  past  by  the  Pro- 
phets, hath  spoken  unto  us  in  latter  days  by  his 
Son,  whom  he  hath  made  heir  of  all  things,  and 
placed  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Majesty  on  high.  If 
the  word  spoken  by  Angels  was  steadfast,  and 
every  transgression  and  disobedience  received  a 
just  recompense  of  reward,  how  shall  we  escape 
if  we  neglect  so  great  salvation,  which  at  first 
began  to  be  spoken  by  the  Lord,  and  was  con- 
firmed unto  us  by  them  that  heard  hioi,  God 
also   bearing  them   witness   with  signs,   and    won- 


his  Resurrection,  to  Mary  Magdalene.  247 

ders,   and   divers   miracles,   and  gifts  of  the  holy 
Spirit. 

O  righteous  Father,  let  it  not  be  our  condemna- 
tion that  hght  is  come  into  the  world,  but  that  we 
have  loved  darkness  rather  than  light  because  our 
deeds  are  evil.  May  our  faith  be  a  lively  operative 
principle,  purifying  our  hearts,  working  by  love,  and 
enabling  us  so  to  overcome  this  present  world,  that 
finally  we  may  be  presented  faultless  before  the 
presence  of  thy  glory  with  exceeding  joy  ! 

To  the  only  wise  God  our  Saviour,  be  glory  and 
majesty,  dominion  and  power,  both  now  and  ever. 
Amen. 


DISCOURSE   xy. 

ON    THE    APPEARANCE    OF    CHRIST,    AFTER    HIS 
RESURRECTION,    TO    MARY    MAGDALENE. 


PART    II. 


John  xx.  11 17. 

But  Mary  stood  without  at  the  Sepulchre  weeping,  &c. 

In  the  progress  of  our  Discourse  concerning  the 
causes  of  joy  in  the  resurrection  of  our  Lord,  that 
might  naturally  present  themselves  to  the  mind  of 
Mary,  we  come  now  to  observe  in 

The  third  place,  That  the  resurrection  of  Christ 
was  not  only  the  restoration  of  a  most  respectable 
and  amiable  friend,  highly  honoured  and  affec- 
tionately beloved  by  her  ;  the  restoration  also  of 
a  wise,  a  kind,  and  faithful  instructer;  but  the  dis- 
covery of  this  resurrection  was  itself  a  favour  to 
Mary,  and  accompanied  with  such  circumstances 
as  were  extremely  friendly,  and  very  honourable 
to  her. 

To  a  mourner  such  as  Mary,  it  had  been  a  great 
privilege,  if,  from  some  just  conceptions  of  what 
her  Lord  had  taught,  if  from  any  thing  contain- 
ed in   the    Jewish    Scriptures  or  conveyed  to  her 


-  On  the  Appearance  of  Christ,  &c.  249 

through  credible  tradition,  or  deduced  from  the  ob- 
servations, sentiments,  and  reasonings  of  her  own 
mind,  she  had  been  enabled  to  establish  herself  in 
the  firm  persuasion  that  a  friend  whom  she  so  high- 
ly respected,  and  to  whom  she  was  so  much  obliged, 
having  finished  his  course  of  duty,  had  obtained  his 
recompense  of  reward.  It  would  have  been  a  great 
privilege,  if  by  any  means,  Providence  had  enabled 
her  to  think  so  well  of  the  condition  after  death, 
of  those  who  were  gone  before  her,  as  to  antici- 
pate the  renovation  of  her  virtuous  friendships  with 
her  virtuous  predecessors,  when  her  own  course 
should  have  been  run.  This  conviction  had  been 
an  unspeakable  blessing,  and  to  have  arrived  at  it 
must  have  filled  her  heart  with  joy  and  gladness. 
But,  to  have  seen  her  risen  Lord,  to  have  conversed 
with  him,  if  but  for  a  few  days,  for  a  few  hours, 
for  a  few  moments;  to  have  heard  the  voice  of 
Jesus,  when  he  had  triumphed  over  death,  though 
it  had  been  in  the  tone  of  gentle  reproof,  accom- 
panied by  the  same  air  of  countenance  with  which 
he  said  to  Thomas,  "  be  not  faithless  but  believing  :" 
though  Mary  had  heard  nothing  from  her  Lord  but 
the  language  of  rebuke,  that  she  had  been  seeking 
for  the  living:  anions'  the  dead,  that  she  had  not  be- 
heved  his  repeated  predictions  concerning  his  re- 
surrection, or  had  not  understood  what  the  rising 
from  the  dead  should  mean  ;  yet,  as  in  the  case  of 
Thomas  even  such  language  of  rebuke  must  have 
wrought  conviction,  that  conviction  alone  would 
have  enkindled  gratitude  and  joy.  But  what  great- 
er gratitude,  what  livelier  joy,  what  a  variety  and 
multitude  of  pleasurable  sentiments,  that  gentle 
air,  that  kind  and  penetrating  tone  of  former  friend- 
ship, which,  while  it  showed  that  he  was  himself 
alive  again,  showed  that  his  friendship  also  was 
living  still;  and   instantly  called  up  in   Mary's  mind 


250  On  the  Appearance  of  Christy  after 

the  meekness  and  wisdom,  as  well  as  the  authority 
with  which  he  taught ;  the  energy,  as  well  as  kind- 
ness of  his  beneficence,  and  the  obligations  that 
she  owed  to  him  as  her  inslructer  and  deliverer.* 

At  the  sight  of  that  well  known  countenance,  at 
the  sound  of  that  well  known  voice,  what  a  multi- 
tude of  pleasing  recollections  must  have  rushed 
into  her  mind! — 'His  looks  upon  the  cross,  how 
full  of  pain  and  anguish  ;  in  Joseph's  tomb,  how 
pale  and  ghastly  ;  now,  what  life,  what  ease,  what 
sweetness,  what  dignity  is  there  in  them  ! — How 
piercing  were  the  accents  in  which  he  cried  "  my 
God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me !" — 
Now,  how  soothing,  how  cheerful,  how  reviving  is 
his  voice ! — How  much  like  himself  is  this  Son  of 
God  ! — Immortal  now,  yet  still  meek,  and  lowly, 
kind,  and  condescending,  as  he  ever  was  ! — It  is  his 
own  air,  and  manner,  and  expression ;  it  is  that 
heavenly  teacher,  whose  wisdom  and  whose  charac- 
ter I  have  so  much  admired  and  reverenced;  and 
on  whose  counsels  and  instructions  I  have  so  often 
hung  with  unspeakable  satisfaction  and  delight !  It 
is  that  amiable  friend,  I  know  him  well,  I  remember 
the  transporting  moment,  the  gracious  countenance, 
and  the  powerful  voice,  when  he  composed  my  dis- 
tracted mind,  and  restored  me  to  myself." 

*  From  many  circumstances  iu  her  history  incidentally  related,  it 
appears  that  Vlary  possessed  a  mind  generous,  enlightened,  and  dis- 
interested ;  far  superiour  to  that  servile  poverty  of  spirit  which  im- 
plicitly follows  the  multitude,  and  which  instigated  the  anxious  in- 
quiry. "Have  any  of  the  Pharisees  and  Rulers  believed  on  him?" 
She  saw  the  transcendent  excellence  of  her  Lord  through  the  guise  of 
extreme  poverty,  and  the  imposmg  shadow  of  contumely  and  reproach. 
She  saw,  and  in  company  with  her  other  female  associates,  bore  her 
noble  testimony,  during  ihe  agonizing  journey  to  Golgotha,  at  the  foot 
of  the  cross — and  even  when  all  hope  was  destroyed,  at  the  tomb 
wherein  bis  body  was  laid  ! — Editor. 


his  Resurrection^  to  Mary  Magdalene.        261 

It  is  very  natural  that  ideas,  such  as  these,  should 
crowd  into  the  mind  of  Mary,  to  confirm  her  faith, 
and  to  elevate  her  joy  ;  not  clothed  indeed  in  words, 
as  in  order  to  exhibit  them  to  you  it  was  now  ne- 
cessary they  should  be  exhibited,  perhaps,  not 
even  formed  into  orderly  and  distinct  conceptions; 
but,  whatever  pleasing  sentiments  were  connected 
in  her  heart  with  the  appearance  and  the  voice  of 
Jesus,  they  would  instantly,  at  the  same  moment, 
as  by  the  touch  of  lightning,  be  rekindled  there; 
and,  if  one  can  at  all  enter  into  her  feelings,  or  con- 
ceive the  effect  of  the  situation  upon  her  mind,  they 
must  have  been  sentiments,  which,  if  the  time  would 
have  admitted,  and  the  agitation  of  her  mind  allowed, 
would  have  vented  themselves  in  some  such  lan- 
guage as  that  in  which  they  have  been  now  re- 
presented. 

The  sentiments,  however,  that  have  been  here 
ascribed  to  Mary,  should  not  be  considered  merely 
as  matter  of  conjecture,  for,  if  the  history  be  at- 
tended to,  we  must  be  inclined  to  believe,  that  in 
fact  she  was  thus  affected,  and  that  such  affections 
and  such  feelings  were  at  this  time  really  existing  in 
her  mind.  Her  reply  to  Jesus,  discovering  himself 
to  her,  was  Rabboni,  which,  says  the  Evangelist,  is 
to  say,  Master  !  Our  version  has  not  given  precise- 
ly and  unambiguously  the  import  of  the  Evange- 
list's interpretation;  for  the  term  he  uses,  signifies 
Teacher;  and  those  who  are  versed  in  such  litera- 
ture well  know,  that  the  term  itself,  together  with 
that  by  which  the  Evangelist  explains  it,  strictly  and 
literally  signifies.  My  great  Instructer.  She  does 
not  signify  her  recognition  of  Jesus,  as  in  ordinary 
circumstances  would  have  been  most  natural,  by  the 
simple  enunciation  of  his  name;  she  does  not  mere- 
ly cry  out,  My  Lord  :  that  appellation,  though  ex- 


252  On  the  Appearance   of  Christy   after 

pressive  of  respect,  and  of  some  relation  that  she 
bore  to  him,  was  too  vague  and  general  a  term  to 
suit  the  vigour  of  her  impressions;  too  feeble  and 
inadequate  to  satisfy  the  fulness  of  her  mind.  It 
was  in  his  office  of  a  Divine  Instructer,  that  she 
had  been  used  to  attend  upon  and  contemplate  him; 
it  was  in  this  relation  that  she  found  those  features 
that  had  continually  cherished  and  improved  her 
esteem,  and  which  had  justified  and  confirmed  her 
attachment.  This,  therefore,  was  the  compella- 
tion  which  her  mind  instantly  suggested — 'Great 
Teacher,'  was  her  language,  '  with  whom  no  other 
teacher,  however  eminent  and  excellent,  ought 
ever  to  be  compared.'  The  very  terms  then  in 
which  she  recognized  Jesus,  in  my  apprehension, 
make  it  perfectly  clear,  that,  on  the  moment  of 
his  discovering  himself  to  her,  a  multitude  of  pleas- 
ing recollections,  like  those  we  have  endeavoured  to 
describe,  did  actually  rush  into  her  mind,  not 
merely  to  confirm  the  conviction  of  her  senses, 
but  to  fill  her  mind  with  "all  peace,  and  joy  in  be- 
lieving^." 

Again,  the  kindness  of  this  discovery  to  Mary, 
did  not  alone  consist  in  the  irresistible  evidence 
which  it  afforded  of  her  Master's  resurrection;  for, 
the  moment  that  her  mind  recovered  from  its  first 
agitation,  and  was  at  leisure  to  reflect  upon  the 
steps  by  which  she  had  arrived  at  complete  con- 
viction, her  gratitude  and  joy  must  have  received 
new  accessions  from  the  tender  caution  with  which 
so  transporting  a  discovery  was  made  to  her; — 
that  it  was  not  sudden,  abrupt,  and  hasty,  but,  as 
far  as  was  needful,  progressive,  gradual,  and  with 
preparation. 

When,  from  the  Sepulchre,  where  she  had  been 
weeping,   Mary  turned    herself  from    the    Angel ; 


his  Resurrection^  to  Mary  Magdalene.         233 

Jesus  showed  himself  to  her,  but  so  circumstanced, 
that  slie  should  not  recollect  him.  Considering:  the 
nature  of  Mary's  errour,  who  took  the  person  by 
whom  she  was  addressed,  for  the  gardener,  and 
comparing  this  first  address  with  the  manner  in 
which  Jesus  alvvajs  addressed  his  mother,  and  with 
that  subsequent  address,  in  which  he  perfect!}  dis- 
covered himself,  it  may  seem,  perhaps,  that  he  was 
concealed  from  her,  as  by  other  circumstances,  so, 
in  part  at  least,  by  something  unusually  distani.  and 
respectful  in  the  manner  of  his  accosting  her.  "Wo- 
man," said  he,  "  why  weepest  thou  .'^"  These  words, 
though  they  did  not  discover  the  speaker,  prepar- 
ed for  the  discovery.  Mary,  believing  hira  to  be 
the  gardener,  and  suspecting  he  had  taken  away 
the  bodj  from  t!ie  Sepulchre,  would  naturally  fix 
her  eyes  upon  his  countenance,  and  whilst  she  at- 
tentively looked  at  him,  must  she  not  have  traced 
there  the  features  of  her  Lord  ?  Despairing  indeed  as 
her  state  of  mind  then  was,  and  still  incredulous  about 
his  resurrection,  it  would  not  be  the  idea  of  identity  or 
sameness,  butof  similitude  only,  that  would  first  strike 
her.  When,  from  perceiving  in  the  person,  to  whom 
she  was  speaking,  some  resemblance  of  her  Lord,  she 
was  beginning  to  suspect  that  it  might  be  himself; 
Jesus  kindly  converted  that  suspicion  into  certamty, 
and  spake  to  her  in  a  manner  that  left  no  doubt 
upon  her  mind,  that  it  was  indeed  her  Deliverer,  her 
Instructer,  and  her  Friend.  The  instant  transition 
from  a  state  of  mind,  totally  occupied  and  deeply 
impressed  with  the  idea  that  her  Lord  was  irrecove- 
rably dead,  to  a  state  of  indubitable  persuasion  that 
he  was  certainly  alive  again,  might  have  been  a 
change  too  great  to  have  been  supported.  The  abrupt 
and  instantaneous  discovery  of  himself,  might  have 
overpowered  a  very  tender  heart,  and  a  very  feeble 
frame.  In  Mary's  case,  the  agitation  occasioned  bj 
22 


254  On  the  Appearance  of  Christ,  after 

so  violent  an  impression,  might  have  renewed  the 
derangement  of  her  ideas,  and  brought  back  a  total 
alienation  of  mind.  To  Mary  then,  how  striking 
and  engaofino:  must  this  tenderness  have  been,  and 
when  once  she  had  become  capable  of  reflectmg 
upon  it,  what  an  improvement  of  her  joy  in  the 
conviction,  that   her  Lord  was  risen  from   the  dead  I 

But  this  is  not  all;  the  discovery  was  not  only 
thus  kind  to  Mary,  kind  in  itself,  in  its  nature,  in  its 
manner,  and  in  its  circumstances — in  othei-  respects 
also  it  was  singularly  kind,  and  highly  honourable. 
Mary  and  her  associates  forsook  not  their  dying 
Lord.  They  staid  by  the  cross,  till  the  tragedy 
was  over.  They  were  the  last  to  leave  the  Sepul- 
chre at  his  entombment,  they  were  the  first  to  re- 
visit it  when  the  sabbath  was  ended,  and  "  when 
therefore  Jesus  was  risen,"  says  St.  Mark,  "  he 
appeared  first  to  Mary  Magdalene."  The  firmness 
of  her  faith,  the  boldness  of  her  avowal  of  it,  the 
steadiness  of  her  attachment,  the  zeal  of  her  affec- 
tion, the  importance  and  disinterestedness  of  her 
services,  all  of  them  the  result  of  that  power  which 
had  been  exerted  to  restore  her  from  the  most  de- 
plorable condition  of  insanity,  and  her  gratitude  for 
this  kind  exertion  of  that  power,  merited,  as  it 
seems,  this  honourable  distinction.  Could  Mary 
perceive  that  she  was  thus  distinguished,  and  not 
rejoice  in  it  ?  could  Mary  receive  irom  Jesus  the 
message  which  he  sent  by  her  to  his  Apostles,  and 
not  know  that  none  of  them  had  yet  seen  him  alive 
after  his  passion  } 

To  whom  is  it  that  we  first  communicate  our  good 
tidings  of  great  joy  ?  is  it  not  to  those  whom  we  re- 
spect and  love?  In  making  the  first  discovery  of 
himself  to  Mary,  what  a  testimony  did  Jesus  bear 


his  Resurrection,  to  Mary  Magdalene.        255 

to  Mary's  merit,  and  to  his  own  sense  of  it !  I  would 
ask  a2^ain,  To  whom  is  it  that  we  first  communicate 
good  tidings,  is  it  not  to  those  of  whom  we  are  per- 
suaded, that  they  love  and  respect  us  ?  is  it  not  to 
those  who  will  turn  the  joyful  tidings  we  communi- 
cate, to  the  best  account  for  all  who  have  any  inter- 
est in  them  ?  What  a  testimony  did  Jesus  herein 
bear  to  the  benignity  and  liberality  of  Mary's  sen- 
timents, and  to  her  delight  in  every  good  word  and 
work !  Who,  and  what  are  they,  whom  we  employ 
in  kind  and  honourable  errands,  but  those  of  whom 
we  are  persuaded  that  they  will  execute  them  with- 
out envy,  and  will  not  themselves  be  envied,  foi  the 
distinction  that  has  been  conferred  upon  them  by 
those  to  whom  they  are  sent  ? 

How  honourable  then  was  the  commission  with 
which  she  was  entrusted  to  Mary's  candour,  and 
to  Mary's  sympathy,  as  well  as  to  the  candour  and 
sympathy  of  the  Apostles  ?  how  honourable  is  this 
testimony  on  the  one  hand  to  the  equity  of  their 
sentiments,  and  on  the  other,  to  the  respectability  of 
her  character  and  her  title  to  the  estimation  in  whicb 
they  held  her  ? 

W"hen  Isaiah,  foretelling  the  deliverance  of  the 
Jews  from  the  Babylonish  captivity,  describes  the 
watchmen,  discovering  from  their  watch-towers  afar 
off  upon  the  mountains,  the  messenger  that  was 
bringing  from  Assyria  the  glad  tidings  of  salvation, 
he  represents  the  watchmen  as  admiring  and  almost 
envying  the  messenger,  and  the  messenger,  as  ex- 
ulting in  the  errand  upon  which  he  comes. 

How  beautiful,  say  they,  upon  tlie  mountains, 

Are  the  feet  of  that  joyful  messenger,  of  him  that  announceth  peace, 

Of  that  joyful  messenger  of  good  tidings,  of  him  that  annouDceth  salvation, 

And  that  sayeth  unto  Sioii,  thy  God  reigneth  ! 


25®  On  the  Appearance  of  Christ,  after 

You  feel,  I  am  persuaded,  how  natural  are  the  sen- 
timents of  the  watchmen  and  the  messenger,  how 
closely  connected  with,  and  how  perfectly  suitable 
to  their  situation.  Had  you  descried  a  messenger 
bringing:  the  grood  tidings  of  the  deliverance  of 
your  captive  countrymen,  you  would  have  adfnired 
and  rejoiced  in  his  alacrity  ;  and  if  yourselves  had 
been  entrusted  with  the  message,  the  like  exultation 
and  alacrity  would  have  distinguished  you.  But 
what  had  that  messenger  to  announce  that  can  be 
compared  witli  the  joyful  tidings  that  Mary  had  to 
revtfal  ?  Is  the  restoration  of  the  remains  of  a  cap- 
tive nation,  to  be  coru pared  with  tlie  pledge  of  hu- 
man immortality  ?  Is  the  deliverance  of  one  people 
out  of  the  hands  of  their  enemies,  to  be  compared 
Avith  the  demonstration  of  all  men's  triumph  over 
death?  Of  which  good  news  would  you  rather  have 
been  t!ie  messenger  ?  In  which  of  these  felicities 
would  you  have  preferred  to  take  your  share? 

To  convey  to  friends  the  joyful  tidings  of  the 
resurrection  of  a  common  friend,  what  heart  would 
not  spring  forward  to  so  delightful,  so  acceptable  a 
service  ? — To  carry  such  tidings  to  disappointed, 
disconsolate,  and  despairing  friends,  what  zeal  and 
alacrity  must  not  this  have  added  to  the  embassy  ? — 
But,  if  the  message  involved  in  it  also,  glad  tidings 
of  great  joy  to  all  people,  what  tongue  can  express 
the  exultation  to  which  it  must  have  given  rise? — 
To  a  generous  mind  the  errand  must  have  been  as 
delightful,  as  it  was  important;  and  the  employ- 
ment, in  itself  a  subject  of  the  purest  joy,  must 
have  formed  a  great  and  unspeakable  obligation  to 
the  Employer. — It  was  a  testimony  of  respect,  it 
was  an  act  of  kindness,  it  was  an  occasion  given  to 
excite,  to  exercise,  and  to  improve,  both  in  herself 
and  others,  the  sweetest  and  most  ennobliniir  atfec- 


his  Resurrection,  to  Mary  Magdalene.         257 

tions  of  the  human  heart.  What  a  subject  this,  of 
thankfulness  and  joy  !  great  enough,  as  it  seems 
to  me,  to  have  been  felt  sensibly,  even  amidst  all 
those  other  lively  sentiments,  that  the  conviction  of 
her  Master's  resurrection  must  have  enkindled  in 
her  heart. 

But  this  is  not  all  the  grace  and  honour  which 
this  discovery  of  himself,  and  the  circumstances  of 
this  discovery  to  Mary,  comprehends  in  it;  for  it 
remains  still  to  be  added,  that  these  favours  and 
these  honours  were  conferred  upon  her,  in  the  pre- 
sence of  many  friends  and  associates  whom  she  es- 
teemed and  loved,  and  by  whom  she  was  recipro- 
cally respected. 

It  appears  to  be  a  fact,  clearly  deducible  from 
an  attentive  consideration  of  the  various  narratives 
of  the  four  Evangelists,  that  when  Jesus  revealed 
himself  to  her,  Mary  was  not  alone.  She  was  at- 
tended to  the  sepulchre,  in  her  way  thither,  and 
from  it  also,  by  those  honourable  women,  who,  in 
his  last  journey,  as  well  as  formerly,  had  accom- 
panied our  Lord  from  Galilee  to  Jerusalem;  who 
had  been  present  at  his  crucifixion  and  his  burial, 
and  had  carefully  observed,  where,  and  how  the 
body  was  entombed. 

It  is  probable  that  there  subsisted  among  these 
pious  followeis  of  their  Master,  many  tender  ties 
of  friendship  and  attachment.  In  their  daily  in- 
tercourse, many  mutual  kindnesses  must  have  been 
perpetually  circulating  among  them,  by  which  means 
they  would  be  formed  to  the  readiest  sympathy 
with  the  pains  and  pleasures  of  each  other;  and, 
in  the  presence  of  their  Lord  at  least,  would  have 
enjoyed  much  edifying  conversation.     But,  besides 


258  On  the  Appearance  of  Christ,  after 

all  these,  and  many  other  causes  of  esteem  and  af- 
fection, ihey  were  "  all  one  in  Christ :"  their  at- 
tachment to  their  common  Lord,  cemented  more 
closely  their  attachment  to  each  other,  and  the 
respect  he  showed  to  all,  rendered  them  all  recipro- 
cally more  respectable. 

To  be  distinguished  by  such  a  personage,  in  the 
presence  of  such  friends,  so  affectionately  beloved, 
and  so  amiable  ;  so  respectfully  esteemed,  and  so 
respectable  ;  was  no  trifling  distinction,  no  ordinary 
favour,  no  common  honour  :  1  was  ffoingr  to  have 
said,  the  language  of  it  was,  "  many  daughters 
have  done  virtuously,  yet  thou  hast  excelled  them 
all,"  but  I  feel  myself  something  checked  in  that 
idea,  yet  not  altogether  precluded  from  such  an  in- 
terpretation of  the  text,  by  the  consideration,  that 
they  were  partakers,  as  well  as  witnesses,  of  the 
favours  that  were  conferred  on  Mary. 

From  John  it  appears  indeed,  that  Mary  was 
particularly  addressed,  but  from  Matthew  it  is  as 
manifest  that  the  whole  company  also  were  ad- 
dressed by  him.  In  revealing  himself  to  Mary 
therefore,  Jesus  revealed  himself  to  all  who  were 
within  hearing  of  the  conversation,  and  in  the  er- 
rand that  was  particularly  prescribed  to  her,  it  was 
signified  to  ail  that  they  were  to  accompany  her. 
To  have  had  the  favour  she  received,  conferred, 
though  not  in  the  presence  of  those  she  esteemed 
and  loved,  had  been  just  matter  of  rejoicing :  to 
have  received  distinction  in  their  sight,  in  which 
they  could  in  no  degree  have  participated,  might, 
no  doubt,  have  been  matter  of  rejoicing  still  :  but 
to  a  heart  of  generous  sensibility,  this  would  have 
been  a  diminished  favour.  Surely  it  must  have  im- 
proved her  joy  and  gratitude,  that,  though  on  this 


his  Resurrection,  to  Mary    Magdalene.        259 

occasion  distinguished,  she  was  not  greatly  nor  in- 
vidiously distinguished,  and  that  the  honour  done  in 
particular  to  herself,  was  a  very  small  account  in 
comparison  of  that  by  which  all  her  associates  were 
equally  distinguished. 

To  be  singularly  distinguished  in  an  honourable 
society  where  all  deserve  distinction,  while,  in  one 
view  it  is  an  honour  of  the  highest  kind,  in  an- 
other, is  far  less  acceptable,  far  less  desirable,  and 
far  less  joyful,  than  to  stand  as  near,  as  is  consis- 
tent with  any  sort  of  distinction,  on  a  level  with 
those  whom  we  feel  to  be  as  worthy  of  our  esteem, 
as  we  can  conceive  ourselves  to  be  of  theirs.  To 
be  the  principal,  and  only  just  the  principal,  on 
such  an  occasion,  and  in  such  an  embassy,  was  a 
far  more  acceptable  distinction  than  to  have  engros- 
sed the  honour  of  it  wholly,  or  to  have  stood  very 
high  above  those  who  were  admitted  to  some  par- 
ticipation of  the  honour.  How  beautifully  does 
this  consideration  display  the  wisdom,  the  delicacy, 
and  the  benignity  of  Jesus  !  While  at  the  same 
time,  giving  greater  purity  to  Mary's  exultation, 
and  therefore  more  approveableness  to  her  own 
feelings,  and  adding  also  a  more  perfect  sympathy 
with  more  perfect  pleasure  in  the  breasts  of  her 
associates  and  friends,  what  an  elevation  must  it 
have  given  to  her  triumphs,  what  livelier  emotions 
under  the  recent  impressions  of  the  scene,  and  how 
much  more  heartfelt  and  more  permanent  satisfac- 
tion  in  her  subsequent  reflections  on  them ! 

From  what  has  been  suggested  in  this  and  the 
foregoing  Discourse,  it  is  obvious  to  remark, 

In  the  first  place.  That  it  is  not  a  formal,  care- 
less, or  cursory  perusal  of  the  sacred  history,  that 


260  On  the  Appedrance  of  Christ,  after 

can  discover  to  us  all  its  beauties,  or  let  in  its  just 
impressions  to  our  hearts.  This  can  be  attained 
only  by  attentive  meditation,  and  reiterated  reflec- 
tion on  the  scenes  and  circumstances  of  the  events, 
and  on  the  feelinsfs  and  lansuajre  of  the  ao-ents. 
Without  this,  many  of  the  beauties  of  the  sacred 
story  will  lie  hidden  from  us,  and  therefore,  many 
things  that  might  have  confirmed  our  faith,  and 
through  that,  our  virtue,  as  well  as  many  things 
that  might  have  exercised  the  good  affections  of 
our  hearts,  will  remain  undiscovered. 

Secondly.  To  reflect  upon  Mary's  faith  may  con- 
tribute to  confirm  and  enliven  ours.  We  believe 
that  death  is  not  the  end  of  man,  and  it  is  well  that 
we  believe  it,  it  is  well  for  ourselves,  and  for  all 
who  live  with  us;  it  is  for  their  comfort,  and  for 
our  comfort;  and  though  it  be  greatly  for  our  in- 
terest, it  is  nevertheless  for  the  credit  of  our  under- 
standings also,  that  we  believe  it.  Reason  intimates 
this  truth,  Christianity  as^^erts  it,  and  in  Christ, 
shown  alive  after  his  passion,  we  have  an  argument 
from  fact,  a  specimen  of  human  fates.  As  it  is  for 
the  credit  of  our  understandings,  for  the  support  of 
our  minds  under  aflliction,  and  the  melioration  of 
our  character  at  all  times,  that  we  should  receive 
this  joyful  doctrine,  it  is  of  the  first  importance  that 
our  faith  in  it  should  never  decline  or  waver.  It 
is  our  prudence  therefore,  and  our  duty  also,  often 
to  renew  the  ground  on  which  our  faith  is  support- 
ed, and  to  avail  ourselves  of  every  fact,  and  of 
every  consideration,  to  establish  and  enliven  it. 

Of  this  nature,  if  I  mistake  not,  we  shall  find  the 
conviction  that  was  produced  in  the  mind  of  Mary. 
It  was  not  a  conviction  that  she  expected  ;  it  was 
not  a  conviction  for  which  she  had   prepared  her- 


his  Resurrection,  to  Mary  Magdalene.  261 

self;  it  was  not  a  conviction  for  which  the  previous 
circumstances  had  disposed  her  mind;  her  preju- 
dices were  all  on  the  other  side  ;  her  feelings  were 
the  most  unfavourable,  and  the  very  entrance  of  any 
such  idea  into  her  mind  was  powerfully  precluded. 
She  had  been  seeking  for  the  body  in  the  sepul- 
chre, she  was  perplexed  that  it  was  not  to  be  found 
there  ;  she  had  prepared  wherewith  to  perform  the 
last  sad  offices  of  respect  to  a  deceased  friend,  and 
she  conceived  that  some  one  had  anticipated  her  in 
these  services,  or  had  put  it  beyond  her  power  to 
perform  them,  and  she  was  weeping,  in  all  the 
anguish  of  disappointment.  She  did  not  recollect 
Jesus  when  she  saw  him ;  she  did  not  recollect 
him,  even  when  he  spoke  to  her :  how  powerful 
then  must  have  been  the  impression,  how  irresisti- 
ble the  evidence,  to  overcome  all  this  indisposi- 
tion to  receive  it ;  to  convert  such  darkness  into 
light  ;  such  incredulity,  into  firm  and  lively  faith ; 
and  such  despondent  melancholy,  into  joy  and 
triumph ! 

How  firm  is  the  testimony  of  such  a  witness? 
With  how  much  comfort  and  satisfaction  may  we 
rely  upon  it !  In  her  conviction  surely,  there  is  pow- 
er enough  to  compose  any  doubts  of  ours,  and  to 
engage  us  to  rejoice  in  her  report,  as  "  a  faithful 
saying,  and  worthy  of  all  acceptation." 


PRAYER. 

Blessed  be  the  God  and  Father  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  who  of  his  abundant  mercy  by  the 
resurrection  of  his  Son  from  the  dead,  hath  begot- 
ten us  again  unto  a  lively   hope   of  an  inheritance 

23 


262  On  the  Appearance  of  Christ,  &c. 

incorruptible,  undefiled,  atid  that  fadeth  not  away, 
reserved  in  Heaven  for  us ! 

Enable  us,  O  merciful  Father,  so  to  walk,  as  he 
also  walked.  Being  risen  with  Christ,  may  we  set 
our  affections  not  on  things  below,  but  on  things 
above.  While  we  are  in  the  world,  may  we  be 
the  lights  of  the  world  ;  may  we  live  an  ornament 
to  the  reasonable  nature,  and  a  credit  to  that  holy 
name  by  which  we  are  called.  And  whenever 
thou  shalt  see  good  to  remove  us  from  the  pre- 
sent scene,  may  it  appear  to  all,  by  our  patience 
and  submission,  by  our  tranquillity  and  composure, 
by  our  readiness  to  go  hence  and  to  be  with 
Christ,  that  true  religion  can  impart  consolation, 
above  the  reach  of  time,  and  chance,  and  death. 

Finally,  O  God,  having  approved  ourselves 
through  all  the  changes  of  this  world  thy  faithful 
servants  and  obedient  children,  in  the  next  may  we 
be  received  into  those  blissful  mansions,  whither 
Christ  as  our  forerunner  is  already  entered;  and 
where  all  the  wise  and  worthy,  of  all  ages  and 
generations,  of  all  nations,  tongues,  and  kindreds, 
shall  be  for  ever  settled  in  thy  heavenly  presence  ! 
Amen. 


DISCOURSE     XVI. 

REFLECTIONS    ON    THE    TOMB    OF    JESUS,    AS 

TENDING    TO    CONFIRM    OUR    FAITH    IN 

THE    CHRISTIAN    DOCTRINE. 


Matthew  xxviii.  6, 
Come  and  see  the  place  wliere  the  Lord  lay. 

To  the  serious  and  well  instructed  Christian  the 
tomb  of  Jesus  is  a  very  interesting  and  edifying 
theme  of  contemplation  ;  and  if  the  Infidel  would 
attend  the  place  where  Jesus  lay,  such  considera- 
tions could  not  fail  to  suggest  themselves  even  to  him, 
as  might  create  a  doubt  at  least,  concerning  the  rea- 
sonableness of  his  unbelief. 

The  words  of  the  text  were  spoken  by  an  angel 
who  attended  the  sepulchre  of  Jesus,  to  the  women 
who  came  thither  early  in  the  morning  after  the 
sabbath,  to  complete  the  embalming,  which,  on  ac- 
count of  its  approach,  had  been  left  unfinished. 
The  women  were  amazed  to  find  the  sepulchre  un- 
sealed ;  they  were  perplexed  when  they  found  not 
the  body;  they  dreamt  not  of  a  resurrection,  for  as 
yet  they  understood  not  the  scriptures,  which  said 
that  Jesus  musi  rise  from  the  dead. 

In  the  following  Discourses,  we  shall  not  confine 
ourselves  to  those  objects  merely,  to  which  the  ce- 


264  Reflections  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesus. 

lestial  messenger  particularly  invited  the  attention 
of  the  persons  he  addressed,  but  taking  a  wider 
scope,  shall  divide  the  meditations,  that  present  them- 
selves, into  two  different  classes,  comprising  under  the 
first,  such  as  have  a  tendency  to  confirm  our  faith  in 
the  christian  doctrine  ;  and  under  the  second,  such 
as  have  a  tendency  to  awaken  or  enliven  those  good 
affections  that  constitute  and  adorn  the  Christian 
temper. 

Under  the  first  head  let  us  inquire,  what  were 
the  peculiar  circumstances  in  the  place  where  Jesus 
lay,  to  confirm  our  faith  in  him  and  in  his  gospel  ; 
and  here  it  may  be  useful  to  consider, 

Where  the  sepulchre  was  situated  ; 
Of  what  materials  it  was  composed  ; 
To  whom  it  belonged  ;  and 
What  was  deposited  within  it  ? 

Each  of  these  considerations  will  suggest  some 
reflections  of  powerful  efficacy  to  confirm  our  faith 
in  Christ,  either  by  justifying  our  dependence  upon 
the  writers  of  his  life,  and  the  credit  that  we  attach 
to  the  history  of  his  resurrection  ;  or,  by  displaying 
to  us  a  part  of  that  minute  and  wonderful  attention, 
with  which  the  providence  of  God  disposed  the  vari- 
ous circumstances  of  his  death,  so  as  to  produce 
complete  conviction,  that  "  the  Lord  is  risen  indeed," 
and  thus  declared  to  be  "  the  Son  of  God,  with 
power." 

First.  If  it  be  asked,  Where  was  the  place  in 
which  the  Lord  lay  ?  The  apostle  John  gives  the 
following  answer.     "  In  the   place   where    he    was 


Reflections  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesus.  265 

crucified  there  was  a  garden,  and  in  the  garden  a 
new  sepulchre,  there  they  laid  Jesus  therefore,  be- 
cause ot  the  Jews'  preparation  daj,  for  the  sepulchre 
was  nigh  at  hand." 

It  may  seem  strange  that  in  a  scene  of  pleasure, 
in  a  garden,  its  owner  should  have  placed  a  memen- 
to, which  is  so  wont  to  strike  a  damp  upon  all  human 
pleasures,  and  to  check  our  joy  amidst  the  most 
innocent  and  rational  amusements.  But,  inconsis- 
tent as  this  may  generally  be  found  with  the  man- 
ners of  the  modern  and  the  western  world  ;  unna- 
tural as  it  may  appear,  at  any  time,  or  in  any  coun- 
try, to  have  placed  a  sepulchre  in  a  garden,  this 
circumstance  is  so  far  from  adding  any  thing  to  the 
incredibility  of  the  marvellous  relation  in  which  it 
stands,  that  it  rather  tends  to  render  it  the  more 
credible  ;  as  it  is  perfectly  agreeable  to  the  pre- 
vailing customs  of  the  time  and  of  the  country,  con- 
cerning which  the  evangelical  historian  speaks. 

The  Jews  were  not  allowed  to  build  sepulchres 
in  their  cities,  lest  the  living  might  accidentally 
contract  such  pollution  from  the  dead,  as  should 
disqualify  them  for  the  worship  of  the  Sanctuary. 
It  was  required  that  their  burying  places  should  be 
at  least  two  thousand  cubits  from  their  cities,  and 
the  sepulchre  in  which  Jesus  lay,  was  still  further 
distant.  And,  as  thev  were  not  allowed  to  build 
their  sepulchres  in  any  ot  their  towns,  so  neither  in 
Jerusalem  were  they  even  permitted  to  lay  out  their 
gardens.  It  is  an  old  tradition  which  the  Jewish 
writers  have  themselves  preserved  from  the  time  of 
Christ,  and  even  from  an  earlier  period,  that  in  Je- 
rusalem no  gardens  were  permitted,  except  a  very 
few,  which  they  specify,  and  which  they  tell  us  had 
remained  undisturbed  from  the  days  of  the  ancient 


266  Reflections  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesus. 

prophets,  viz.  the  gardens  of  Roses.  The  reason 
of  the  prohibition  is  not  so  evident  as  the  fact; 
whether  it  proceeded  from  some  superstitious  pre-, 
judice,  or  from  pohlical  considerations,  does  not  ap- 
pear ;  for  it  is  merely  remarked  by  the  Jews,  as  a 
pecuHarity  belonging  to  the  holy  city. 

Their  own  historian,  who  relates  the  destruction 
of  Jerusalem,  has  observed,  that  Titus,  the  Roman 
general,  found  great  difficulty,  and  was  exposed  to 
extreme  danger  in  his  approaches  to  take  a  view  of 
the  city,  from  the  ditches  that  had  been  dug,  and 
the  fences  that  had  been  raised  to  divide  the  gardens 
which  occupied  a  considerable  space  in  the  territory 
that  lay  round  it.  Since  then,  every  citizen  of  Je- 
rusalem, if  he  wished  to  have  a  garden,  must  have 
it  without  the  walls,  and  must  also  have  his  burial 
place  at  a  distance,  it  was  convenient,  not  to  say 
necessary,  to  have  them  in  the  same  place.  In  a 
Jewish  garden,  therefore,  it  was  reasonable  to  ex- 
pect a  sepulchre ;  and  such  t\'as  the  distance  of 
the  cross  from  the  walls  of  the  city,  that  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  cross,  it  was  reasonable  to 
expect  a  garden. 

It  is  an  essential  character  of  a  true  history, 
that  even  every  incidental  circumstance  of  the  nar- 
nation,  however  repugnant  to  those  of  earlier  or 
later  times,  should  be  perfectly  correspondent  to 
the  characters,  the  laws,  the  maxims,  and  the  cus- 
toms, of  those  that  are  the  subject  of  it.  And 
wherever  this  correspondence  is  invariably  main- 
taii:ed,  through  the  whole  of  a  long  and  minute 
detail,  it  is  an  indication  which  may  most  reasona- 
bly be  relied  upon,  that  it  is  the  work,  if  not  of  an 
eye-witness,  yet  of  one  who  lived  very  near  the 
times  and  the  scenes   in  which  he    wrote.     Nothing 


Reflections  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesus.  267 

is  more  easy  than  to  preserve  this  correspondence 
when  the  writer's  pen  is  governed  by  recent  well 
known  facts,  and  when  he  has  no  other  intention 
than  to  describe  the  things  he  relates,  as  they  actually 
took  place;  and  nothing  is  raore  difficult,  when  im- 
agination guides  the  pen,  and  the  intention  is  to  pro- 
cure credit  to  things  of  its  own  creating.  In  the 
one  case,  so  little  thought  is  required,  that  an  honest 
mind  cannot  easily  mistake  ;  in  the  other  case,  so 
extensive  a  knowledge,  so  particular  and  so  labo- 
rious an  attention  is  necessary,  that  even  the  great- 
est abilities  seldom  succeed  ;  in  some  instance  or 
other,  the  attention  will  fail,  and  the  illusion  betray 
itself.  Throughout  the  whole  of  the  gospel  history 
however,  various  as  are  the  scenes,  the  characters, 
the  customs,  and  the  manners,  that  are  either  large- 
ly and  expressly  described,  or  occasionally  and  ob- 
liquely alluded  to,  not  one  such  example  can  be 
found  ;  they  always  appear  in  exact  conformity  with 
the  representations  of  other  unconnected  and  ap- 
proved writers  of  like  antiquity  ;  and  for  this  rea- 
son alone,  the  gospel  history  is  worthy  of  the  most 
perfect  credit,  for  it  must  have  been  written  by  per- 
sons well  acquainted  with  the  various  facts  that  are 
delineated,  and  who  were  conversant  among  the 
scenes,  the  customs,  and  the  characters  they  de- 
scribe. 

The  place  of  the  sepulchre  wherein  our  Lord  was 
laid,  is  one  of  the  many  instances,  which,  however 
improbable  at  first  view,  upon  due  consideration 
give  great  credibility  to  the  history  in  which  they 
occur,  and  which,  taken  altogether,  will  preclude 
from  the  serious  and  candid  mind  every  suspicion 
of  its  truth.  It  is  a  circumstance  which  a  writer, 
who  had  not  written  upon  the  spot,  and  from  fact, 
would  hardly  have  conceived  ;  and  which  an  impos- 


268  Reflections  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesus. 

tor,  who  had  written  from  imagination  only,  most 
certainly  would  not  have  thought  of.  Though  it 
was  not  ordinarily  allowed  to  entomb  the  dead  with- 
in the  precincts  of  the  holy  city,  yet,  as  a  peculiar 
honour  to  the  family  of  David,  the  Kings  of  that 
house  were  buried  there.  If  the  Evangelist,  who 
was  a  Jew,  and  who  could  not  be  ignorant  of  this 
fact,  had  not  been  relating  an  actual  event,  but  con- 
triving a  seducing  story,  it  would  have  been  most 
natural,  by  some  means  or  other,  (of  which  a  variety 
could  not  have  failed  to  occur  to  a  man  capable 
of  inventing  the  other  parts  of  the  narrative)  to 
have  lodged  the  body  of  this  King  of  Israel,  the 
Lord  of  David,  a  descendant  of  that  Royal  House, 
even  more  illustrious  than  its  founder,  in  the  sepul- 
chre of  David.  This  is  a  burial  place  for  the  hero 
of  the  storv,  which  would  have  insinuated  itself  into 
the  imagination  of  a  deceiver,  rather  than  an  unfin- 
ished sepulchre  in  a  neighbouring  garden.  But  the 
fact  is,  that  it  was  nothing  but  the  truth  which  the 
Evangelist  recorded.  He  did  not  draw  the  circum- 
stances from  his  own  invention,  nor  mould  them  ac- 
cording to  his  fancy,  he  related  them  simply  as  they 
actually  were. 

As  every  part  of  a  true  story  must  cohere  with 
all  the  rest,  and  every  following  incident  arise  out 
of  those  that  preceded,  so  there  were  the  most  co- 
gent reasons  why  our  Lord  should  be  laid  where  he 
actually  was  deposited,  rather  than  in  any  other 
place,  for  it  was  "nigh  at  hand  :"  and  hence  arises 
another  consideration  to  confirm  our  faith  in  him, 
and  our  attachment  to  his  cause  as  the  cause  of 
heaven.  A  prediction  had  been  uttered  by  him, 
in  the  most  publick  manner,  concerning  the  time 
of  his  continuance  under  the  power  of  death,  and 
this  prediction  had  been  expressed  on  different  oc- 


Reflections  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesus.  269 

casions,  in  different  forms.  At  one  time  our  Lord 
had  said  that  he  should  be  put  to  death,  and  that  on 
"  the  third  day  he  should  rise  again  ;"  at  another 
time,  that  "  the  Son  of  Man  should  be  three  days  in 
the  heart  of  the  earth."  It  is  evident  that  these  two 
prophecies  could  not  be  made  consistent  with  each 
other,  unless  he  were  buried  on  the  same  day  he 
died ;  this  then  was  absolutely  necessary  to  the 
fulfilment  of  the  prophecy.  Now  according  to  the 
Jewish  computation  of  time,  one  day  ended,  as  the 
next  began,  at  six  in  the  evening ;  but  so  much  of 
the  day  had  elapsed  on  which  our  Lord  was  crucifi- 
ed, before  he  was  actually  dead,  that  there  remain- 
ed no  time  to  be  wasted.  Before  six  he  must  be 
interred,  and  four  was  now  approaching  when  he 
died.  Divine  Providence  was  not  miraculously  to 
interfere  with  the  kind  and  pious  sentiments  of  his 
friends,  who,  having  conceived  no  hope  of  his  resur- 
rection, could  t)ot  think  of  burying  him  without  the 
usual  testimonies  of  affection  to  the  dead.  That 
they  had  not  time  to  accomplish  all  they  wished  to 
do,  and  what  was  customary  to  be  done,  is  evident 
from  this,  that  Mary  Magdalene  and  the  other  Mary, 
who  had  seen  the  body  wrapped  up  in  spices  by  Jo- 
seph and  Nicodemus  before  they  laid  it  in  the  se- 
pulchre, according  to  the  custom  of  the  Jews,  never- 
theless came  thither  early  in  the  morning  of  the 
next  day  but  one,  with  other  preparations  for  the 
embalment.  Had  there  been  no  repository  for  the 
dead  so  near,  or  had  a  sepulchre  been  chosen  at  a 
greater  distance,  it  is  probable  that  the  tenderness 
of  his  friends  for  their  deceased  Master,  would  have 
defeated  the  predictions  of  their  living  Lord  :  unless 
embalmed,  though  in  an  imperfect  manner,  they 
would  not  have  buried  him,  and  if  longer  time  must 
have  been  spent  in  his  conveyance  to  a  more  distant 
grave,  he  could  not  have  been  lodged  there  before 
the  day  on  which  he  died  was  over. 
24 


270  Reflections  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesus. 

But,  by  what  means  should  they  be  urged  to  the 
necessary  despatch,  in  contradiction  to  the  feelings  of 
friends  so  warmly  attached  to  their  Master  by  the 
deepest  and  tenderest  sentiments  of  respect  and 
affection  ?  It  was  appointed  by  that  God,  who  is  ex- 
cellent in  counsel  and  abundant  in  means,  that  bis 
beloved  Son  should  expire  on  the  eve  of  the  Jewish 
Sabbath.  The  day  following  it  had  been  unlawful 
either  to  inter,  to  embalm,  or  to  make  any  kind  of 
preparation  for  the  funeral ;  by  this  means,  there- 
fore, Divine  Wisdom  made  it  impossible  for  them 
not  to  do  what  was  necessary,  in  order  to  verify  the 
prediction  of  our  Lord.  But  even  this  would  not 
nave  been  sufficient  to  ensure  its  accomplishment,  if 
the  body  must  of  necessity  have  been  conveyed  to 
some  considerable  distance  from  the  cross.  It  was 
necessary,  therefore,  that  to  an  approaching  Sabbath, 
there  should  be  added  an  adjoining  tomb. 

In  the  expedition  used  by  this  disciple,  it  is  clear 
that  they  had  no  intention  to  provide  for  the  verifying 
of  these  prophecies  ;  for,  although  they  were  more 
than  once  repeated,  it  is  observed  in  the  course  of 
the  narration,  that  the  disciples  understood  them 
not,  that  they  were  afraid  to  inquire  of  their  Mas- 
ter, that  they  comprehended  not  his  predictions, 
either  of  his  previous  sufferings,  his  death,  or  the 
resurrection  that  should  follow.  It  was  only  when 
the  events  actually  took  place,  by  which  these  decla- 
rations were  fulfilled,  that  they  apprehended  their 
true  meaning.  So  far  from  expecting  a  resurrection, 
they  did  not  believe  that  he  would  die  ;  and  it  is  evi- 
dent from  the  dejection,  the  despair,  and  the  terrour 
into  which  they  were  thrown,  when  he  actually  did 
expire,  that  an  event  like  this,  was  not  '•  in  all  their 
thoughts." 


Reflections  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesus.  271 

The  disciples  then,  in  the  haste  made  by  them 
to  deposit  their  Lord  in  the  nearest  tomb,  had  no 
sort  of  intention  to  render  the  accomphshment  of 
his  former  predictions  possible.  They  were  the 
voluntary,  yet  unconscious  instruments  in  the  hands 
of  God,  whose  secret,  yet  real  and  all  powerful 
provideiice,  without  the  least  suspicion  of  the 
Agents  employed,  had  prepared  the  series  of  events 
to  accomplish  the  great  and  important  ends  propos- 
ed. "It  is  the  Lord's  doing,  and  is  marvellous  in 
our  eyes  !" 

In  the  second  place,  St.  Matthew  tells  us  that  Jo- 
seph of  Ariraathea  laid  the  body  in  a  new  tomb 
which  was  hewn  out  in  the  rock. 

Does  this  appear  a  tedious  and  expensive  method 
of  forming  a  family  burial  place,  and  therefore  cre- 
ate some  hesitation  about  the  fact  .'^  Let  us  remem- 
ber that  it  appears  from  the  history  of  the  demo- 
niack  of  Gadara,  of  whom  it  is  said,  '  that  he  came 
out  of  the  tombs,'  and  that  '  he  abode  in  the  tombs,' 
that  the  Jewisli  sepulchres  were  such  as  modern 
travellers  have  represented  them  ;  spacious  vaults 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  their  cities,  hewn  out  of 
the  rocks,  in  the  sides  of  which  they  cut  out  the 
cells  where  the  dead  were  deposited,  and  there 
closed  up.  Sarah  was  buried  in  the  excavation  of 
a  rock  at  Hebron  ;  the  sepulchres  of  the  house  of 
David  were  of  the  same  nature.  In  Isaiah's  days, 
sepulchres  were  hewn  out  on  high,  and  these  final 
abodes,  especially  when  intended  for  the  rich  and 
the  great,  were  graven  for  them  in  a  rock.  The 
tomb  of  Lazarus  was  a  cell  hollowed  out,  in  a  na- 
tural or  artificial  cave.  Such  it  seems  in  general, 
were  the  sepulchres  of  the  Jews,  in  their  own  coun- 
try, from  the  earliest,  even  to  the  latest  times. 


27*2  Reflections  071  the  Tomb  of  Jesus. 

But  though  it  had  not  been  the  custom  of  the 
Jews,  to  provide  such  receptacles  for  their  dead, 
it  would  still  have  remained  probable  that  the  se- 
pulchre in  which  Jesus  lay  was  of  this  kind,  for  it 
was  near  the  spot  where  he  was  crucified  ;  and  this 
single  circumstance  gives  a  degree  of  probability 
to  what  is  said  concerning  it.  Though,  in  itself,  it 
had  been  a  thing  exceedingly  improbable,  that  a 
family  burial  place  should  be  hewn  out  of  the  solid 
rock,  yet  it  is  most  natural  to  believe  that  a  family 
burial  place,  in  such  a  situation,  must  have  been 
of  this  kind.  If  it  were  near  the  cross,  it  was  upon 
a  rocky  hill,  for  such  was  Golgotha,  where  the  cross 
of  Jesus  was  erected  ;  the  soil  of  which  had  not 
depth  enough  to  receive  a  subterranean  building; 
in  the  sides  of  which  an  excavation  would  easily  be 
made,  and  to  the  top  of  which,  materials  for  any 
other  kind  of  sepulchre,  could  not  very  easily  have 
been  conveyed. 

But  this  is  not  all  the  evidence  that  the  kind  of 
sepulchre  in  which  Cinist  was  laid,  suggests,  to 
justify  and  confirm  our  faith.  There  was  necessari- 
ly no  entrance,  no  possibility  of  gaining  admittance 
but  by  the  mouth,  at  which  the  guard  of  those  who 
had  murdered  him,  were  placed.  No  sooner  had 
the  report  of  his  resurrection  spread  abroad,  than 
it  was  answered  by  another,  industriously  procur- 
ed, and  sedulously  propagated  by  his  enemies, 
that  the  resurrection  was  a  mere  fiction  of  his 
friends,  who  had  come  by  night  and  stolen  him  away. 
Had  they  then  dusr  through  the  solid  rock  .'^  The 
rock  was  as  entire  as  ever,  and  there  was  no  other 
passao;e  to  be  found.  Was  the  pretended  sleep 
of  the  Roman  soldiers  so  sound,  that  the  removal 
of  the  stone  did  not  awake  them  ?  Were  the  timid 
disciples  become  so  courageous  in  the  interval  of  a 
very  few  hours,  that  the  attempt  did  not  appal  them .'' 


Reflections  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesus.  273 

Yet  to  the  avowal  of  such  improbabihties  were 
the  Priests  and  Pharisees  reduced,  by  the  very 
nature  of  the  sepulchre  wherein  the  body  was  de- 
posited. 

Again,  To  whom  belonged  the  sepulchre  in  which 

Jesus  lay  ? 

It  belonged  to  Joseph,  a  rich  and  honourable 
counsellor.  It  was  prophecied  of  the  Messiah,  that 
he  should  make  his  grave  with  the  rich  in  his  death. 
We  have  seen  that  his  friends  were  compelled  by 
the  hour  at  which  he  died,  to  deposit  him  in  the 
nearest  sepulchre  ;  and  we  may  observe,  that  by 
the  very  same  means,  provision  was  made  by  the 
providence  of  God,  for  the  fulfilment  of  this  other 
prophecy  also.  It  is  probable  that  he  was  not  in- 
tended to  continue  in  this  grave.  It  was  taken, 
because  they  were  obliged  to  take  it  for  a  tempo- 
rary repository;  and  it  is  most  likely  that  if  the 
sabbath  had  not  approached  so  very  near,  he  had 
never  been  deposited  there  at  all ;  for  it  appears 
from  some  circumstances  in  the  narration,  that  the 
sepulchre  was  not  only  new,  but  as   yet  unfinished. 

Again,  it  is  not  observed  by  St.  John  without 
design,  that  in  this  sepulchre  "  never  man  was 
yet  laid.''  If  none  but  Jesus  ever  went  into  it,  none 
but  himself  could  proceed  from  it.  This  single  cir- 
cumstance, even  although  the  body  had  undergone 
some  considerable  change  by  the  temporary  inter- 
ruption of  life,  would  sufficiently  have  ascertained 
the  identity  of  the  person,  and  precluded  every 
doubt,  whether  the  man  that  rose,  was  the  very 
man  who  was  crucified  and  buried  there.  Had  it 
not  been  for  the  circumstance  of  the  sepulchre  being 
a  new  one,  the  adversaries  of  Christ  might  have 
admitted  the  reality  of  his  resurrection,   but  have 


*i74  Reflections  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesus. 

denied  the  consequences  which  the  Christians  drew 
from  it. — Overlooking  the  predictions  of  our  Lord, 
or,  denying  their  reality,  they  might  have  urged ; 
'  Did  ever  any  man  infer  concerning  him,  who  re- 
vived on  beirig  let  down  into  Elijah's  sepulchre, 
that  therefore,  all  he  said  was  true  ? — Did  any  man 
infer  from  thence  that  he  was  the  Son  of  God  ?' 
*  The  premises,'  such  cavillers  might  have  assert- 
ed, '  did  not  support  any  such  inference  :  the  fact 
had  been,  that  some  illustrious  prophet,  like  Elijah, 
had  been  interred  in  Joseph's  sepulchre,  and  that 
Christ,  when  he  was  deposited  there,  had  impinged 
against  the  relicks  of  that  prophet,  and  revived.' 
Such  might  have  been  the  insinuations  of  the  priests 
and  rulers,  and  such  was  their  influence  with  the 
people,  that  their  insinuations  might  have  gained 
credit.  In  a  new  sepulchre  however,  where  never 
man  had  yet  been  laid,  no  relicks  of  a  prophet  could 
possibly  be  found.  This  circumstance  therefore, 
was  by  no  means  insignificant,  and  the  mention  of  it 
completes  the  argument. 

Christians,  you  need  not  fear  for  the  gospel  you 
love,  it  is  of  God,  and  the  power  of  man  cannot 
overthrow  it.  No  human  artifice  or  violence  can 
effect  its  extirpation.  Even  the  gates  of  hell  shall 
not  prevail  against  it.  It  may  be  injured  by  the 
superstition  and  licentiousness  of  its  professors  as 
much,  nay  more,  than  by  the  ridicule  and  virulence 
of  its  opposers. — Obstructed  or  oppressed  it  may 
be,  but  it  never  can  be  extinguished  or  overcome. 
This  divine  seed  which  our  heavenly  Father  hath 
planted,  is  indestructable  and  immortal ;  though  it 
may  not  always  thrive  and  grow  according  to  your 
wishes  and  your  prayers,  though  the  tares  with 
which  it  is  intermingled  may  suppress  and  threaten 
to  destroy  it,  you  may  trust  in  God   that  it  shall  be 


Reflections  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesus.  273 

preserved  for  ever.  It  is  written  in  the  decrees  of 
heaven,  it  is  promised  in  the  gospel  prophecies ; 
the  vi^ord  of  God  faileth  not;  whatever  seems  to  be 
defeating  the  accomplishment  of  its  predictions,  will 
eventually  be  overcome.  The  years  are  bringing 
on  that  glorious  period,  when  the  gospel  shall  be 
acknowledged  by  every  tongue,  and  glorified  in 
every  life. — Christ  was  dead,  and  is  alive  again,  and 
lives  for  evermore  ! 


PRAYER. 

O  Almighty  and  most  merciful  Father,  we  offer 
unto  thee  our  most  devout  praise  and  thanksgiving, 
that  thou  hast  vouchsafed  unto  us  of  this  distant 
day  such  abundant  evidence  of  the  resurrection  of 
thy  Son  from  the  dead  !  We  thank  thee  for  the 
numerous  attestations  that  have  been  given  to  this 
glorious  and  consolatory  truth.  Hasten,  we  humbly 
beseech  thee,  the  approach  of  that  blessed  period, 
when  all  who  partake  with  us  in  the  same  common 
nature,  and  in  the  common  bounties  of  thy  provi- 
dence, may  become  partakers  also,  in  the  invaluable 
blessings  of  thy  Son's  gospel. 

Seeing  that  our  blessed  Lord  is  indeed  risen 
from  the  dead,  and  that  if  we  obey  him,  because  he 
lives,  we  shall  live  also,  may  we  mortify  our  affec- 
tions which  are  on  the  earth,  and  put  on  that  spiri- 
tual mind,  which  is  life  and  peace.  Enable  us,  O 
God,  uniformly  to  maintain  that  superiority  to  all 
the  trifles  of  this  transitory  state  which  becomes 
those  who  are  called  to  glory,  honour,  and  immor- 
tality, who  are  destined  for  the  associates  of  the 
noblest  spirits  in  the  universe,  who  hope  to  live  for 
ever  where  Jesus  lives,  in  thy  heavenly  presence. 


DISCOURSE    XVII. 


REFLECTIONS    ON    THE    TOMB    OF    JESUS,  TEND- 
ING   TO    IMPROVE    THE    CHRISTIAN    TEMPER. 


PART   II. 


Matthew  xxviii.  6. 
Come  see  the  place  were  the  Lord  lay. 

We  purposed  to  divide  our  reflections  upon  the 
Tomb  of  Jesus  into  two  great  classes  ;  arranging 
under  the  first,  such  as  have  a  tendency  to  enliven 
and  confirm  our  faith  ;  and  under  the  second,  such 
as  have  a  more  immediate  tendency  to  awaken  and 
improve  those  good  affections,  that  constitute  the 
Christian  temper,  and  adorn  it.  The  first  of  these 
divisions  being  already  finished,  we  proceed  now  to 
the  second  ;  and  here  also  we  puipose  to  separate 
our  reflections  into  two  classes ;  placing  in  the 
first,  those  that  arise  from  the  consideration  that 
Jesus  was  deposited  in  the  grave  ;  and  in  the  se- 
cond, those  that  aiise  from  the  consideration  that 
he  did   not  continue  to  lie  there. 

In  the  first  place,  to  send  our  thoughts  into  the 
place  where  Jesus  lay,  will  help  to  cool  our  love  of 
life,  and  our  fond  attachment  to  this  present  world. 
Why  do  we  cling  so  closely  to  a  scene  in  which 
we  cannot  stay  ?  why  do  we   rejoice  so  ardently  in 


Reflections  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesns.  277 

a  flower  which  the  noon-day  sun  may  wither,  which 
the  evening  blast  will  certainly  destroy  ?  Why  do 
we  expect  so  much  from  a  vapour,  which  appeareth 
for  a  little  time,  and  then  vanisheth  away  ?  Why 
are  we  so  warm  in  our  affections  towards  a  state, 
where  our  sweetest  draughts  are  not  unmixed  with 
the  gall  of  bitterness;  out  of  which,  when  our 
hopes  and  joys  are  most  lively,  we  may  suddenly 
be  remanded ;  and  in  which,  althouf^h  this  ni^ht 
were  fixed  for  our  departure,  we  may  suffer,  what 
would  make  that  little  interval  appear  long  ? 

How  short  was  the  interval  betw'een  the  pass- 
over  celebrated  by  Jesus  m  such  sweet  communion 
with  his  friends,— and  that  grave,  which  they  be- 
dewed with  their  tears  ?  His  hours  were  not  many, 
but  we  cannot  say  so  of  his  pains  !  What  bodily 
anguish,  what  mental  sorrow,  did  he  not,  in  that 
short  time,  experience  ? — You  know  the  story  of 
Gethsemaiie  ;  you  remember  the  treacherous  disci- 
ple ;  vou  are  no  strangers  to  the  malice  of  the 
Jewish  Council  ;  to  the  mockery  of  Herod's  Sol- 
diers, or  to  the  injustice  of  Pilate's  sentence. — Vou 
well  know,  that  neither  the  insults  of  the  heathen 
soldiery,  nor  the  tortures  inflicted  by  the  cruel 
scourge,  could  appease  the  fury  of  his  countrymen  ; 
Jesus  looked  on  them,  and  Pilate  spake  to  them, 
in  vain.  What  did  he  feel  when  they  cursed  them- 
selves that  they  might  gratify  their  malice  with  his 
death?  "Crucify  him.  Crucify  him,"  was  the  dread- 
ful cry:  "let  his  blood  be  on  us  and  on  our  chil- 
dren I"  When  that  shout  ascended  to  heaven  from 
thousands  of  his  countrymen,  how,  think  ye,  did 
Jesus  look  ?  what,  think  ye,  did  he  feel  ? — If  the 
spear  had  entered  his  heart  whilst  life  yet  remain- 
ed, it  had  not  inflicted  so  sharp  a   wound  ! 

2r) 


278  Refteclions  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesus. 

You  know  what  crucifixion  means — you  can  never 
forget  the  tragedy  of  Golgotha.  Insulted  by  his 
cruel  murderers,  forsaken  by  his  affriglited  follow- 
ers ;  one  friend  unable  to  sustain  the  mournful  spec- 
tacle, yet  unable  to  turn  away  from  it  ;  standing  by 
his  mother,  crucified  herself  in  the  crucifixion  of  her 

Son  !   These   were    the    sights    he    saw  when    lifted 

.... 
upon  the  cross,   and   these   the  agonies  in  which   he 

died.     These  were  the  steps    by  which   the    Son    of 
God  went  down  into  the  chambers  of  death  ;  through 
this  series  of  sorrow,  he  entered  into  Joseph's  tomb. 
— Into  the  grave,   you    too    must   enter,  for  it  is  the 
house  appointed  for  all  the  living  ;  and   though  you 
descend  not  there    throusfh  the   violence   of  wicked 
men,  you  will   probably   descend    through    the   vio- 
lence  of  keen    diseases,    and    the    tears    of   tender 
friends.     No  innocence    of  character,  no  usefulness 
of  life,  can  redeem  you  from    the   grave,  nor   delay 
jour  arrival  there,  nor  procure  you  warning  of  your 
death,  nor   defend  you   from    affliction  till  it  comes. 
We  may  trust  our  virtue  to  ensure  to  us  the  friend- 
ship of  God,  but,  so  long  as   there  are  evil   passions 
in  the  world,  the   tomb  of  Jesus   will  admonish  us, 
that  we  cannot  trust  it  to  preserve  us  from  the  en- 
mity of  men.     We  may  trust  our  virtue  to  make  all 
thinofs  work    together   for  our  "rood,  but  we  cannot 
trust  it  to   preserve  us  from  every    thing,  which  for 
the  present,  we  must  call  evil.     There  are  no  means 
by  which  we  can    certainly  attain    the  happiness   of 
this  world,  and  when  we  have  obtained  it,  there  are 
no   means   by  which   we  can  be  assured  that  it  will 
continue  long. 

Since  then  we  cannot  stay  in  this  world,  or,  if  we 
could  stay,  have  no  power  to  make  its  comforts  per- 
manent, or  even  of  assuring  ourselves  that  our  con- 
dition  in   it  shall    be  easy  ;  since    we  live  with  the 


Reflections  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesus.  279 

scythe  of  death  continually  suspended  over  us,  and 
know  that  "time  and  chance  happenelh  unto  all,"  how 
absurd  is  it  to  be  extravagantly  fond  of  this  life,  how 
prudent,  to  be  continually  aspiring  to  a  better  ? — In 
the  world  to  come  there  are  no  faithless  friends,  no 
dangerous  enemies,  no  false  accusers,  no  unrighteous 
judges;  in  the  world  to  come,  there  are  no  suffering 
relatives,  no  treacherous  pleasures,  no  painful  dis- 
cipline nor  unwelcome  changes.  In  that  world 
there  are  no  weeping  eyes,  no  swelling  hearts,  no 
dying  agonies  :  in  that  world  there  is  nothing  to  cre- 
ate either  apprehension  or  regret ;  for  there,  virtue  is 
not  tried,  but  crowned. 

Whatever  comforts  you  may  meet  with  in  the 
way  thither,  receive  them  thankfully,  and  enjoy  them 
cheerfully  ;  it  becomes,  it  behoves  you  so  to  do.  But 
beware,  my  friends,  that  they  do  not  seduce  you 
from  your  duty.  Beware,  that  for  their  sakes,  you 
do  no  make  yourselves  unworthy  of  eternal  life. 
Remember,  Christians,  that  your  citizenship  is  in 
heaven  ;  that  you  are  strangers  and  pilgrims  upon 
earth,  and  this  world  has  no  value  to  be  compared 
with  that,  which  it  derives  from  the  advantages  it 
supplies,  to  fit  yourselves  for  a  better. 

Secondly,  If  we  send  our  thoughts  into  the  tomb 
where  Jesus  lay,  they  can  hardly  return  from 
thence,  without  bringing  something  to  reconcile  us 
to  the  troubles  of  this  present  life.  That  tomb,  sug- 
gests enough  to  moderate  our  expectations  from  the 
present  world,  and  our  attachment  to  it,  without 
either  depressing  or  disturbing  our  minds;  without 
either  exciting  our  anxieties  about  its  future  scenes, 
or  rendering  us  impatient  under  the  present.  Above 
the  world  we  ought  to  be,  yet  not  discontented  with 
it;  ready   for   the  glorious   change   we  expect ;  re- 


280  Reflections  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesus. 

joicing  in  hope  of  so  blessed  a  translation,  yet,  all 
the  clays  of  our  appointed  time,  '\n  patient  waiting, 
until  our  change  come.  If  it  be  a  good  reason  why 
our  delights  should  not  rise  too  high,  that  flow- 
ery as  (he  path  may  be,  the  road  will  soon  turn 
down  into  the  vale  of  death,  it  surely  is  as  good 
an  argunient  why  we  should  not  be  disturbed  by  the 
nigged  and  thorny  passages  of  life,  that  at  last, 
when  we  are  quite  weary,  we  shall  lie  down  and 
take  our  rest. 

In  Joseph's  tomb,  how  sweet  is  the  sleep  of  Je- 
sus !  There  is  nothing  in  that  peaceful  retreat  to 
trouble  him.  His  pains  were  acute,  but  they  over- 
powered him  at  last — he  was  weary  of  his  suffer- 
ings, and  now  he  is  at  rest.  Now,  there  is  no 
anguish  in  his  countenance,  and  theje  never  will 
be  more.  How  placid  is  that  slumber!  He  feels 
no  more  the  cruel  scourge  ;  he  has  forgotten  the 
accursed  tree.  Ye  priests  and  rulers,  ye  cannot 
wake  him  to  renew  your  persecutions.  Terrour 
has  no  more  horrid  spectacles  to  set  before  him. 
Pain  has  no  more  darts  to  throw,  and  death's  last 
blow  is  struck.  Peter,  he  thinks  no  more  of  thy 
denial  :  even  the  infidelity  of  Judas  disturbs  him 
not.  This  peaceful  sleep  is  not  for  a  moment  in- 
terrupted by  the  remembrance,  either  of  insulting 
enemies,  or  forsaking  friends. 

John  may  come  hither  now  to  weep  over  his 
friend,  without  afflicting  him  ;  and  here,  Mary,  thou 
mayst  sit  do\^n.  and  lean  over  that  beloved  Son, 
and  pour  out  all  thy  giiefs  into  his  bosom,  for  it 
cannot  hurt  him  now.  What  is  it  to  him  that  his 
body  was  so  cruelly  torn  and  mangled  ?  what  is 
it  to  him  that  by  cruel  hands  he  was  crucified  and 
slain  ? — No  more  will  it  be  to  thee,  my  Soul,  when 


i 


Reflections  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesus.  281 

a  {ew  short  days  are  over,  that  thou  art  grievous- 
ly afflicted  now,  or  that  still  severer  troubles  are 
awaiting:  thee ! 

When  a  wicked  world  distresses  thee,  remember, 
Christian,  that  thou  shall  presently  retire,  where 
the  wicked  cease  from  troubling.  When  the  cares 
of  life  press  heavy  on  thee,  look  forward  to  that 
calm  retreat  where  all  anxieties  are  composed. 
When  adversity  approaches  thee,  maintain  thy 
courage,  Christian;  tell  her,  that  there  is,  at  no 
great  distance,  an  asylum  whither  she  cannot  come. 
When  the  pains  of  death  lay  hold  on  thee,  remem- 
ber that  thy  grave  will  be  easier  than  thy  bed  :  a 
dying  Christian  may  find  comfort  in  tlie  thought, 
that  they  cannot  last  long.  His  slumbers  in  that 
land  of  silence  will  be  as  calm  and  easy  as  his  Mas- 
ter's were;  and,  in  the  mean  time,  whatever  suf- 
ferings may  await  him,  he  has  tliis  best  of  conso- 
lations, that  they  are  not  the  tokens  of  God's  dis- 
pleasure ;  not  the  ministers  of  a  vindictive  judge  to 
announce  to  him  the  approach  of  more  tremendous 
sufferings,  but  the  discipline  of  a  tender  parent,  to 
work  out  for  him  "a  far  more  exceeding  and  eter- 
nal weight  of  glory." 

If  Indeed,  the  calamities  of  life  were  the  evidences 
of  God's  rejection,  who  could  abide  his  visitations.'* 
Jesus  was  never  dearer  to  him  than  when  he  cried, 
"  my  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me  .'*" — 
He  never  had  more  confidence  in  the  friendship  of 
God  than  when  in  his  last  words,  amidst  all  the  re- 
proach and  agonies  of  the  cross,  be  said,  "  Father, 
into  thy  hands  I  commend  my  spirit !" 

Christians,  you  may  retain  your  confidence  in 
God,   even   when  he  may  appear   to  have  forsaken 


282  Reflections  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesus. 

you,  even  when  your  good  conscience  is  the  only 
comfort  that  remains;  when  all  your  circumstances 
are  full  of  trouble,  and  all  your  sensations  full  of 
pain,  you  may  still  call  him  your  God  :  he  will 
answer  to  that  faithful  compellation,  he  will  not  leave 
you  without  the  strength  you  need,  or  withhold 
from  you  the  recompense  for  which  you  long. 

Thirdly,  Whilst  we  turn  our  thoughts  upon  the 
place  where  Jesus  lay,  it  is  hardly  possible  that  we 
should  forget  the  fickleness  of  human  favour.  It 
may  be  lost  without  any  fault  of  ours,  and  cannot 
be  retained  with  certainty  by  our  most  assiduous 
endeavours  to  deserve  it.  It  was  the  fury  of  the 
multitude  that  brought  Jesus  to  his  grave.  Only 
five  days  before,  that  very  multitude  brought  him 
in  triumph  to  the  temple — "  Hosannah  to  the  Son  of 
David;  blessed  is  he  that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the 
Lord:" — now  what  a  change!  "Away  with  this 
Man,  crucify  him,  crucify  him!"  "Release  to  us 
Barabbas  !"  What  had  Jesus  done,  that  a  murde- 
rer should  be  preferred  before  him  ?  Jesus  was,  what 
he  ever  had  been  ;  holy,  harmless,  and  undefiled  ; — 
how  iniquitous  would  it  have  been,  from  his  dis- 
grace, to  have  inferred  his  guilt.  Let  us  then  not 
judge  of  characters  by  so  precarious  and  dange- 
rous a  rule,  as  the  esteem  which  they  either  may 
possess  or  have  possessed  in  the  world.  Let  us 
contemn  the  littleness  of  courting  popular  ap- 
plause. 

How  light  a  soul  is  that,  which  can  be  lifted  up 
by  the  breath  of  man!  Who  would  be  so  credulous 
as  to  lean  upon  the  wind  ?  or  so  weak  as  to  grieve, 
because  it  may  chance  to  blow  against  him  ."*  Let 
us  do  our  duty  whatever  be  the  event;  and  trust 
the  Hiaster  whom   we  serve,  with  our  credit  and  es- 


Reflections  of  the  Tomb  of  Jesus.  283 

teem.  From  the  praise  of  men,  let  us  appeal  to 
the  praise  of  him  who  made  them;  his  favour  is 
our  life,  and  although  we  should  lose  our  life  in 
seeking  and  maintaining  his  favour,  it  is  not  follj,  it 
•is  not  rashness,  for  his  loving  kindness  is  even  bet- 
ter than  life. 

God  cannot  die  nor  change  ;  but  you  cannot  af- 
firm this  of  jour  earthly  friends.  You  cannot  aflirm 
that  there  is  any  certain  method  either  of  obtaining 
human  friendship  or  of  preserving  it.  To  be  good, 
and  to  do  good,  is  the  most  promising  expedient, 
and  yet  even  this  is  by  no  means  infallible.  But 
the  friendship  of  God  we  may  by  this  means  cer- 
tainly obtain  ;  and  by  this  means  it  may  be  infalli- 
bly preserved.  His  friendship  will  comfort  us  in 
the  warrt  of  all  other  friendships,  it  will  help  us  in 
that  solemn  hour  when  all  other  friendships  fail. 
Moreover,  in  the  mean  time,  if  we  have  the  favour 
of  God,  he  has  human  favour  at  his  disposal,  for  all 
hearts  are  in  his  hands  :  he  will  prolong  to  us  our 
friendships  if  it  be  good  for  us  to  enjoy  them  ;  and 
if  our  doings  please  the  Lord,  he  has  the  power, 
and  when  it  will  not  injure  us,  he  will  have  the  dis- 
position also,  to  "  cause  even  our  enemies  to  be  at 
peace  with  us." 

Fourthly,  If  we  think  where  Jesus  lay,  if,  intend- 
ing to  be  the  better  for  our  meditations,  and  not 
merely  to  indulge  ourselves  in  vain  speculations,  we 
employ  them  on  the  Son  of  God  entombed  in  Jo- 
seph's sepulchre,  it  is  very  natural  that  by  this 
means  our  love  to  God  should  be  improved.  Jesus 
gave  himself  according  to  the  will  of  God,  even 
the  Father,  that  he  might  take  us  out  of  this  pre- 
sent evil  world:  that,  by  the  influence  of  his  exam- 
ple, carried  to  the  last  perfection,  and  by  the  power 


284  Rijlections  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesus. 

of  his  doctrine  established  on  the  strongest  evi- 
dence, he  might  dehver  us  from  the  prevailing 
carelessness  and  impenitence  of  the  world,  and  en- 
rrage  us  "  by  patient  continuance  in  well  doing,  to 
seek  for  glory,  honour,  and  immortality."  God  com*- 
raanded,  he  obeyed.  To  his  obedience  we  owe  a 
debt  which  we  never  can  repay.  Is  there  nothing 
due  to  the  authority  that  he  so  highly  respected  ?  It 
was  his  obedience  to  God,  in  the  service  of  our 
souls,  that  brought  him,  through  the  pains  of  cru- 
cifixion, to  the  grave.  For  you,  Christ  gave  him- 
self; you  own  the  value  of  the  gift,  and  celebrate 
the  beneficence  of  the  giver.  For  you,  God  gave 
his  Son  ;  in  that  gift  did  he  make  no  sacrifice  ? 
Was  there  no  evidence  of  divine  compassion  and 
benevolence  in  a  gift  like  this? — I  heie  speak  of 
the  great  and  ever  blessed  God,  in  the  language 
and  with  the  sentiments  of  men ;  but  for  this  1  have 
his  own  authority,  for  he  has  himself  reasoned, 
from  our  feelings,  to  his  own  conduct.  "  Can  a  wo- 
man forget  her  sucking  child,  that  she  should  not 
have  compassion  on  the  infant  of  her  womb.'*  Yea 
they  may  forget,  yet  will  not  I  forget  thee,  Sion. 
How  shall  I  give  thee  up,  Ephraim  ?  Israel,  how 
shall  I  deliver  thee  ?  How  shall  I  make  you  as  Ad- 
mah  and  as  Zeboim  ?  My  heart  is  turned  within  me, 
and  my  repentings  are  kindled  together."  Did 
God  love  Ephraim  and  Israel,  whose  sins  required 
to  be  chastened,  better  than  he  loved  the  meek  and 

the  holv  Jesus? 

./ 

What  then  will  you  render  unto  God  for  this  his 
unspeakable  gift?  Obey  the  Son  of  God,  who  for 
his  obedience  unto  death,  is  crowned  with  glory 
and  honour;  and  fulfilling  the  conditions  of  them, 
trust  ye  in  the  promises  of  God  :  for,  "  if  he  spar- 
ed not    his  Son,   but  delivered  him    up  for  us  all. 


Reflections  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesus.  286 

how,"  saith  the  Apostle,  "  shall  he  not  with  him, 
also,  freely  give  us  all  things  ?" 


PRAYER. 

O  Lord  God  Almighty  !  As  we  call  ourselves  the 
disciples  of  thy  beloved  Son,  may  we  verify  our 
holy  profession  by  our  growing  conformity  to  his 
example  !  Like  him  it  be  our  meat  and  drink  to  do 
tliy  will,  and  grant,  that  by  meditating  on  the  Tomb 
ot  Jesus,  the  world  may  be  crucified  to  us,  and  we 
unto  the  world. 

The  friendship  of  man  is  as  the  morning  cloud, 
or  as  the  early  dew,  that  soon  passeth  away. — Raise 
us,  we  beseech  thee,  into  such  superiority  to  that 
censure  or  applause  of  men,  which  would  deter  or 
seduce  us  from  the  path  of  duty,  that  no  tempta- 
tion which  the  world  can  offer,  may  ever  shake  our 
constancy  in  thy  service,  or  at  all  abate  our  love  to 
thee  !  Looking  unto  Jesus  the  leader  and  finisher  of 
the  faith,  who  for  the  joy  that  was  set  before  him 
endured  the  cross,  despising  the  shame,  and  is  sat 
down  at  the  right  hand  of  the  throne  of  God,  may 
we  not  be  weary  nor  faint  in  our  minds,  but  may  we 
run  with  patience  and  alacrity  the  race  that  is  set 
before  us  ! 


26 


DISCOURSE     XVIII. 


KEFLECTIONS    ON    THE    TOMB   OF    JESUS,    TEND- 
ING   TO    IMPROVE    THE    CHRISTIAN    TEMPER. 


PART    III. 


Matthew  xxviii.  6. 
Coiue  see  the  place  wliere  the  Lord  lay. 

When  we  send  our  thoughts  into  the  Tomb  of  Je- 
sus, and  there  image  to  ourselves  that  hght  of  the 
world  extinguished,  that  friend  of  man,  that  servant 
of  the  most  high  God,  whose  joy  it  was,  from  morn- 
ing until  night  to  be  doing  good,  cut  off  from  all 
usefulness,  and  cruelly  disabled  from  pursuing  it, 
what  heart  is  not  fired  with  indignation  against 
those  wicked  hands  by  whom  he  was  crucified  and 
slain?  What!  nail  him  to  the  cross,  who  bare  your 
burdens,  who  pitied  your  infirmities,  who  taught 
you  the  most  important  knowledge,  who  conversed 
among  you  with  the  most  engaging  sweetness,  who 
fed  you  in  the  wilderness,  who  healed  your  sick- 
nesses, and  who  raised  your  dead.''  Unfeeling  mul- 
titude, who  could  urge  with  so  much  clamour,  a  de- 
mand,  at  once  so  ungrateful,  so  cruel,  and  unjust  ! 
Ye  Priests  and  Rulers,  is  this  the  spirit  of  your  re- 
ligion and  your  laws  ?  Do  they  give  encouragement 


Reflections  on  the  Tomb  of  Jestis.  287 

unto  evil  doers,  and  afford  no  sanctuary  unto  these 
who  do  well  ? — Do  they  connive  at  the  spirit  of  li- 
centiousness and  cruelty,  and  afford  not  so  much  as 
a  toleration  unto  truth  and  virtue  ? — Pilate,  if  thou 
hadst  obeyed  the  dictates  of  thy  conscience,  though 
thou  mightest  not  have  saved  thy  prisoner,  and  must, 
perhaps,  have  lost  thy  life,  thou  wouldst  not  have 
lost  thy  peace  !  But  thy  crime  is  light,  in  compari- 
son of  theirs.  Over  a  more  tumultuous  people,  a 
more  irreligious  priesthood,  and  a  more  lawless  ge- 
neration, thou  couldst  not  have  been  appointed  go- 
venour. 

But  come,  my  heart,  forgive  them,  for  the  Lord 
forgave  them;  pity  them,  for  he  pitied  them  !  Tliey 
were  men,  they  were  our  brethren,  they  were 
among  those,  to  whom,  by  our  Lord's  express  com- 
mand, repentance  and  remission  of  sins  were  first 
preached,  after  he  was  risen  from  the  dead.  Some 
of  them,  many  of  them  did  repent.  They  were 
pricked  to  the  heart  when  Peter  spake  to  them  of 
their  crimes.  They  received  the  doctrine  of  him, 
whom  they  had  persecuted  unto  death;  they  became 
the  steadfast  professors  and  the  zealous  preachers  of 
his  gospel,  and  were  honoured  with  the  gifts  of  the 
holy  spirit. 

Perhaps,  when  repentance  began  to  be  preached, 
at  Jerusalem,  that  very  Priest  who  first  proposed  to 
lie  in  wait  for  Jesus,  that  very  man  who  first  stipulat- 
ed with  the  traitor  Judas  for  his  price  ;  that  very 
witness  who  deposed  against  him  what  was  neither 
criminal  nor  true;  that  very  ruler,  who  was  foremost 
to  declare  him  worthy  of  death ;  these,  perhaps, 
when  repentance  began  to  be  preached  at  Jerusa- 
lem in  the  name  of  Jesus,  were  the  first  to  hear, 
and  to  repent.     This,  however,  is  most  certain,  that 


283 


Reflections  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesus. 


through  their  hands,  some  of  whom  had  a  dreadful 
share  in  this  bloody  tragedy,  we  have  received  the 
gospel.  The  first  subjects  of  it  were  convevt»^d 
from  among  the  enemies  of  its  author  ;  and  the  day 
is  coming,  when,  as  we  hope,  when,  as  we  believe, 
many  who  invoked  his  blood  upon  themselves  and 
upon  their  children,  shall  stand  with  us  at  the  right 
hand  of  the  son  of  man. 


Let  us  continue  steadfast  in  the  faith,  that  is 
justified  by  such  witnesses;  let  us  adore  the  cle- 
mency that  can  pardon  such  guilt,  and  turn  our 
indignation  from  the  murderers  of  Jesus,  against 
the  prejudices  that  misled,  and  the  vices  that  cor- 
rupted them.  Let  us  beware  of  those  prejudices 
that  would  alienate  us  from  the  truth  :  and  of  those 
vices,  that  would  make  the  truth  our  enemy  ! 

What  was  it  that  deprived  so  many  of  the  Jews 
of  the  benefits  they  might  have  derived  from  the 
preaching  of  our  Lord  ?  What  was  it  that  deprived 
liim  of  the  honours  that  were  due  to  him  as  their 
Messiah,  as  their  promised  and  expected  King  ? — 
He  was  of  Nazareth,  an  obscure  and  poor  town  of 
Galilee,  whence  nothing  good  could  come;  he  affect- 
ed no  worldly  pomp,  and  he  promised  no  worldly 
blessings  ! — If  Jesus  had  employed  his  power  of 
working  miracles,  to  aggrandize  his  country,  and  to 
gratify  his  followers  with  wealth  and  power,  tliey 
would  have  adored  him  :  Because  he  promised  no 
such  happiness  to  his  friends  ;  because  his  doctrine 
reproved,  instead  of  encouraging,  their  worldly  ex- 
pectations ;  because  they  had  nothing  to  expect 
from  him  in  this  world,  they  agreed  that  he  should 
not  continue  in  it.  Their  worldliness  caused  his 
death  ;  it  rendered  them  insensible  to  the  excel- 
lence of  his  doctrine,  unimpressible  by  the  virtues 
of  his  character,  incapable  of  restraint,  even  by  those 


Reflections  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesus,  289 

awful  miracles,  which  amply  testified,  that  God  was 
with  him. 

The  love  of  this  world  was  the  death  of  Je- 
sus; this  was  the  evil  passion  that  instigated  the 
cruel  resentaient  of  the  priests  and  rulers,  that 
prompted  Judas  to  betray,  and  that  prevailed  on 
Pilate  to  desert  him. 

Judas  loved  the  world  ;  he  was  impatient  to  pos- 
sess more  of  its  enjoyments  ;  if  his  master  were  ever 
to  assume  a  kingdom,  it  must  be,  he  thought,  when 
his  life  was  in  the  power  of  his  enemies  ;  and  if  Jesus 
had  no  kingdom  to  assume,  Judas  would  at  least  be  a 
gainer  by  the  price  of  his  infidelity.  Pilate  loved  the 
world  ;  if  he  could  have  borne  the  resentment  of  the 
Jews;  if  he  durst  have  put  his  honour  and  his  life 
upon  the  issue  of  a  trial  before  Caesar,  he  would 
not  have  condemned  the  guiltless.  From  the  love 
of  the  world  arise  almost  all  the  mischiefs  of  human 
life  ;  the  hatred,  the  jealousy,  the  animosities,  the 
cruelties,  the  injuries,  and  oppressions,  that,  from 
time  to  time,  disturb  the  peace  of  families,  of  neigh- 
bourhoods, of  societies,  and  of  kingdoms. 

Let  not  such  a  passion  strike  its  root  into  your 
hearts;  for  you  know  not  of  what  benefits  it  may 
deprive,  or  into  what  crimes  it  may  betray  you.  It 
may  prevent  your  reception  of  the  truth;  it  may 
render  you  disobedient  to  its  dictates;  it  may  stir 
you  up  to  enmity  against  its  advocates;  it  may  cause 
you  to  "deny  the  Lord  who  bought  you,"  to  betray 
the  interests  of  truth  and  virtue,  to  "  crucify  unto 
yourselves  the  Son  of  God  afresh,  and  to  put  him 
unto  open  shame." 

Christians,  consider  what  you  are  doing,  when 
you  make  the   world,  and  the  things  of  the  world, 


290  Reflections  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesus. 

whether  it  be  its  esteem,  its  pleasures,  or  its  inte- 
rest, essential  to  your  peace  ! — what  you  are  doing 
when  you  are  indulging  keen  desires  after  them,  or 
permitting  your  delight  in  these  things,  to  grow 
upon  your  hearts.  You  are  encouraging  and  strength- 
ening those  dangerous  passions  which  betrayed  the 
Jews  into  all  the  guilt  of  having  despised  and  reject- 
ed the  most  important  gift  of  heaven,  and,  finally,  of 
having  murdered  the  holy  one  of  God  ! 

When  the  world  is  spreading  before  you  its  al- 
lurements, send  your  thoughts  into  the  place  where 
Jesus  lay.  Tell  the  world,  '  You  crucified  my 
Lord  ;'  ask  the  world  '  would  you  destroy  my  soul  ? 
That  I  may  have  more  of  your  vain  amusements,  of 
your  unsubstantial  honours,  of  your  sensual  entertain- 
ments, your  precarious  possessions,  than  virtue  can 
command,  or  innocence  will  permit,  shall  I  disgrace 
the  christian  character  ?  Shall  I  cause  the  name  of 
Christ  to  be  blasphemed  ?  Shall  I  destroy  my  hopes 
in  that  city  "  which  hath  foundations,  whose  builder 
and  maker  is  God  ?" — I  am  a  Citizen  of  Heaven  ; 
my  treasures,  my  real  treasures,  are  in  that  world 
where  my  eternity  must  be  spent,  and  the  fashion 
of  which  passeth  not  away.  Avaunt  ye  seducing 
vanities;  be  at  rest  ye  worldly  passions;  I  have 
learnt  from  him  who  was  slain  by  you,  to  know  the 
enemies  that  war  against  my  soul.  I  am  going 
whither  he  is  gone,  as  fast  as  the  wings  of  time  can 
convey  me  ;  speedily,  I  shall  have  no  more  concern 
in  this  world,  than  my  master  had  while  he  slept  in 
Joseph's  tomb.  1  will  keep  my  eyes  upon  my  cru- 
cified Lord  : — the  reproach  of  Christ,  is  greater 
treasure  than  the  riches  of  the  world. — I  have  sworn 
fidelity  to  Jesus,  as  the  Captain  of  my  salvation,  and 
"  the  life  that  I  now  live  in  the  flesh,  must  be  by  the 
faith  of  the  Son  of  God."  ' 


Reflections  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesus.  291 

When,  Christians,  when  will  ye  believe,  that  to 
be  carnally  minded  is  death  ?  When  will  ye  believe 
that  the  honour  of  the  gospel  and  the  interests  of 
your  own  souls  are  dependent  upon  the  spirituality 
of  your  hearts,  and  the  purity  of  your  minds  ?  How 
long  will  ye  continue  unashamed  to  call  yourselves 
the  friends  of  Jesus,  whilst  ye  remain  the  enemies  of 
his  cross,  "  by  minding  earthly  things  ?'' — There  is 
but  one  unambiguous  proof  of  your  friendship  to 
him ;  but  one  undeceitful  principle  on  which  you 
may  expect  his  friendship  ;  namely,  your  abhorrence 
of  the  vices  he  condemned,  and  your  delight  in  all 
the  virtues  that  he  practised. 

In  the  fifth  place — To  turn  our  meditations  to  our 
Lord  deposited  in  Joseph's  tomb,  will  naturally 
increase  our  esteem  and  love  of  him.  Virtue  is,  * 
in  every  circumstance,  an  amiable  object,  but  never 
more  amiable  than  when  in  disti'ess.  When  the 
tear  stands  trembling  in  her  eye,  and  the  groan  that 
distends  her  heart  is  withheld  from  breaking  forth  ; 
then  it  is,  that  she  draws  out  all  our  soul  towards 
her.  In  her  honour  and  prosperity  we  love  her; 
in  her  affliction  and  disgrace,  we  love  her  with  a 
tenderer  affection.  To  that  fortitude  which  cannot 
be  overcome,  to  that  fidelity  which  cannot  be  shaken, 
we  look  up  with  reverence  and  admiration.  In  the 
very  countenance  of  patience,  meekness,  and  resig- 
nation, there  are  the  sweetest  and  most  powerful 
attractions.  If  it  be  for  our  sakes  that  virtue  is  dis- 
tressed, if  she  suffer  in  ourcause,  what  is  there  want- 
ing to  confirm  her  right  to  our  esteem  and  love  ? — 
Christians  !  surely  one  look  into  the  grave  of  Je- 
sus, might  cure  you  of  that  coldness  and  indiffe- 
rence, with  which,  at  sometimes  it  may  be,  you 
are  wont  to  reo;ard  him.  Can  anv  one  reflect,  bv 
what  a  road,  and  with  what  a  temper,  he  passed 


292  Reflections  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesus. 

through  the  valley  of  death  into  the  mansions  of  the 
dead,  and  maintain  a  cold  indifference  towards  him? 
What  a  heart  must  that  be,  in  which  a  scene  like 
this  cannot  raise  the  sentiments  of  admiration,  es- 
teem, and  tenderness,  or,  in  which,  those  senti- 
ments, in  the  contemplation  of  such  a  scene,  can  be 
repressed  ? 

What  was  It  that  brought  your  Lord,  thus  dis- 
honoured to  the  grave?  Did  they  fix  him  to  the 
fatal  tree  that  he  might  go  about  to  do  them  good 
no  more  ?  Did  they  send  him  to  this  land  of  silence, 
that  they  might  hear  from  him  the  glad  tidings  of  for- 
giveness, and  of  eternal  life,  no  more  ?  Christians  1 
that  cross  would  never  have  been  stained  with  the 
blood  of  Jesus,  if  the  world  had  not  been  defiled 
with  guilt;  that  sepulchre  never  would  have  held 
his  lifeless  body,  if  men  had  not  broken  the  law  of 
God.  Ruin  was  before  them  if  they  returned  not 
to  their  obedience,  and  Jesus  died,  to  bring  them 
unto  God.  He  died,  that  our  hopes  of  mercy  might 
revive  ;  he  died,  that  having  lived  to  God  in  this 
world,  we  might,  for  ever,  live  with  him  in  a  better. 
He  died,  that  according  to  the  promise  of  his  father, 
he  might  become  the  author  of  eternal  life  unto  all 
those  who  obey  him. 

Was  he  condemned  at  the  bar  of  Pilate,  that 
we  might  not  be  condemned  at  the  bar  of  God  ? 
Did  he  despise  all  this  shame,  that  we  might  not  be 
overcome  by  the  temptations  of  the  world  ?  Chris- 
tians, you  are  to  live  for  ever — what  then  do  ye 
not  owe  unto  him  who  hath  abolished  death  ?  The 
love  of  Christ  is  essential  to  the  character  of  a  Chris- 
tian— beware,  that  by  your  indifference  towards 
him,  ye  render  not  yourselves  unworthy  of  that 
holy  name  by  which  ye  are  called  ! 


Reflections  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesus.  293 

Hitherto  our  reflections  on  the  sepulchre  of  Jo- 
seph have  taken  their  rise  from  the  consideration 
that  the  Son  of  God  was  deposited  within  it.  1 
would  now  sugi^est,  in  conclusion,  a  practical  re- 
mark or  two,  founded  upon  another  reflection, 
viz.  that  he  did  not  continue  to  lie  there. — "  He  is 
not  here,"  said  the  angel,  "  for  he  is  risen,  as  he  said." 

How  adorable  is  God,  how  wonderful  in  work- 
ing, how  excellent  in  counsel,  how  abundant  in 
means  !  He  speaks,  and  it  is  done.  Although  we 
were  entombed  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth;  though 
rocks  and  hills  were  heaped  upon  our  graves,  and 
legions  of  soldiers  employed  to  prevent  all  ap- 
proach ;  one  angel,  with  a  divine  commission,  one 
command  from  the  mouth  of  God,  would  dis- 
perse the  guard,  and  rend  the  rocks,  and  heal  the 
wounds  of  death,  and  raise  the  dead  to  immortality ! 

Had  you  been  sitting  in  the  sepulchre  of  Jesus 
when  the  fortietii  hour  from  his  crucifixion  was  ex- 
piring, you  would  have  seen  the  Lord,  dead,  cold, 
and  unimpressible  as  tfie  rock  he  lay  upon,  and  all 
thinirs  around  him,  the  o-uard  who  watched  there 
excepted,  still  as  the  midnight  calm  : — the  next  mo- 
ment would  have  shown  you,  the  earth  trembling, 
the  Ano;el  of  the  Lord  cominjj  down  from  Heaven, 
the  sepulchre  burst  open,  the  guard  confounded, 
and  Jesus  going  forth  invested  with  Immortal  life  ! 
In  a  moment  the  spirit  took  possession  of  the  body 
whence  it  had  retired  ;  in  a  moment  that  heart  was 
healed  which  the  spear  had  pierced,  and  that  coun- 
tenance, late  so  pale  and  deathly,  illumined  with 
all  the  wisdom  and  all  the  virtue,  which  it  was 
ever  wont  to  express. 

"  How   marvellous  are   the  works  of  God  !     He 
is  great,   and   his   name  is  great  in   might ;    who   in 

27 


294  Reflections  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesus. 

the  Heavens  can  be  compared  unto  the  Lord,  who 
among  the  sons  of  the  mighty  can  be  hkened  unto  our 
God?"  He  is  pursuing  his  designs,  even  when  he 
seems  to  have  forgotten  them,  and  is  carrying  on 
his  purposes  by  the  very  means  that  are  employed 
to  defeat  them.  The  Jews  did  not  interrupt  his 
counsels  when  they  laid  Jesus  in  the  grave.  From 
that  sepulchre,  where  all  the  hopes  of  his  despond- 
ing disciples  were  entombed,  the  deliverer  of  Is- 
rael came  forth,  invested  with  supreme  power,  and 
aided,  through  the  death  he  had  endured,  to  send 
salvation  to  the  ends  of  the  earth.  The  ways  of 
God  are  not  as  our  ways,  neither  are  his  thoughts 
as  our  thoughts ! 

In  the  sixth  place — When  we  look  into  the  tomb 
of  Jesus,  and  see  that  he  is  not  there,  we  are  una- 
voidably reminded  of  Zophar's  observation,  that 
"  the  triumph  of  the  wicked  is  short."  Triumph, 
indeed,  for  a  time,  ihey  may  ;  the  enemies  of  Jesus 
triumphed  when  they  saw  him  conveyed  to  the  si- 
lent tomb.  They  persecuted  him,  till  ihey  destroy- 
ed him  ;  they  took  away  liis  mortal  life,  but  to  do 
more,  was  beyond  their  power;  they  could  not  pre- 
vent his  resurrection  ;  and  the  glories  and  felicities  to 
which  he  rose  were  as  far  above  their  reach,  as  be- 
yond their  comprehension. 

Christians,  be  not  envious  when  you  see  the 
prosperity  of  the  wicked  ;  it  is  not  long  that  they 
will  triumph  over  you:  keep  the  road  you  have 
wisely  chosen  ;  a  few  fleeting  days  will  bring  you  to 
the  land  where  all  men  shall  receive  according  to 
their  works. 

Sinners,  consider  your  condition  ;  you  are  op- 
posing his  righteous  will,  against  whom  all  opposi- 


RefledioHS  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesus.  295 

tion  is  vain.  Happj,  as  you  may  be,  in  the  sun- 
shine of  prosperity,  even  then,  jour  happiness  is 
not  to  be  compared  with  that  of  the  genuine  Chris- 
tian, although  clouds  and  darkness  may  oversha- 
dow his  dwelhng!  The  path  of  the  just  is  as  the 
morning  light  which  shineth  more  and  more,  until 
all  his  hopes  and  wishes  are  accomplished,  in  the 
glories  of  the  perfect  day;  the  way  of  the  wicked 
is  like  the  evening  shades,  enlivened  it  may  be  for 
a  while  by  the  varied  colours  of  a  setting  sun,  but 
which  deepen  and  still  deepen  on  the  traveller  as 
he  proceeds,  till  at  length,  finding  no  road  to  the 
shelter  which  he  wants,  and  stumbling  at  he  knows 
not  what,  he  is  suddenly  involved  in  all  the  horrours 
of  midnight,  cold,  and  darkness. 

If  there  be  any  thing  concerning  which  vi'e  can 
certainly  be  assured  that  it  is  an  irreversible  de- 
cree of  God,  it  is  this,  which,  from  early  times,  he 
has  ao^ain  and  ajjain  committed  to  his  ministers  and 
messengers.  "  Say  ye  to  the  righteous,  that  it  shall 
be  well  with  him,  for  he  shall  eat  of  the  fruit  of 
his  doings;  but  wo  unto  the  wicked,  for  it  shall 
be  ill  with  him,  for  the  reward  of  his  hands  shall 
be  given  him."  It  is  the  doctrine  of  the  law,  it  is 
the  doctrine  of  the  prophets,and  it  is  the  doctrine  of 
the  gospel  also.— Do  you  allege,  sinners,  that  al- 
though you  be  not  righteous,  yet  you  are  not  wretch- 
ed ?  Alas!  your  prosperity,  instead  of  fostering  your 
presumption,  should  alarm  your  apprehension. 
When  the  husbandman  has  cast  the  seed  into  his 
ground,  does  he  hastily  conclude,  because  the  har- 
vest comes  not  immediately,  that  it  never  will  ar- 
rive ?  or,  if  he  sow  tares  in  his  field,  does  he  vainly 
expect,  that  wheat  will  be  the  produce  .f^ 

Tell  me,  sinner,  what  rule  of  the  divine  conduct, 
what  maxim  of  the  divine  government  was  ever  vie- 


296  Reflections  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesus. 

lated  ?  In  what  instance  has  the  counsel  of  the  Al- 
mighty been  successfully  opposed  ?  It  is  the  decree 
of  God  that  we  should  come  into  this  world,  weak, 
helpless,  and  ignorant;  deperjdent  for  everything 
on  the  care  and  kindness  of  our  progenitors  ;  was 
ever  any  man  born  otherwise?  It  is  the  decree  of 
God  that  no  man  shall  take  up  his  lasting  abode  in 
this  world  ;  has  ever  any  man  discovered  the  means 
of  acting  in  oppositiorj  to  this  decree,  and  of  mak- 
ing himself  a  permanent  settlement  here  below  ?  It 
is  the  decree  of  God,  that  according  as  is  the  con- 
duct of  our  early  life,  such  shall  be  the  habits  and 
character  of  our  future  years;  can  any  man  spend 
his  childhood  and  youth  in  dissipation,  indolence, 
vice,  and  folly,  and,  in  his  following  years  have  no 
ignorance  whereof  to  be  ashamed,  no  habits  of 
idleness  and  sensu?dity,  wherewith  to  reproach  him- 
self? 

By  divine  appointment,  by  the  connexions  which 
God  has  unalterably  established,  the  futurities  of  the 
coming  world,  depend  as  certainly  upon  the  conduct 
of  this  present  life,  as  the  futurities  of  this  world 
depend  upon  its  preceding  periods. — You  might  as 
well  hope  to  grow  wise  in  the  school  of  folly,  vir- 
tuous in  the  school  of  vice,  or  to  be  made  immortal 
by  the  deadliest  poison,  as  to  attain  happiness  by 
disobeying  the  commands  of  God.  That  you  shall 
be  judged  hereafter,  is  as  much  a  condition  of  your 
existence  here,  as  that  you  shall  die.  And  do  you 
know  what  judgment  is  ?  It  is  the  just  accommoda- 
tion of  your  circumstances  to  your  character,  ac- 
cordinji  to  the  measure  of  vour  merit  or  your  jjuilt. 
The  very  same  connexion  that  the  Creator  and  Ru- 
ler of  the  universe  has  inseparably  established,  be- 
tween any  other  cause  and  its  natural  effects,  be- 
tween any  other  condition  and  its  correspondent  con- 
sequences, the  same  has  he  established  between  ho- 
liness and   happiness.     If  you  have  not  yet  experi- 


iRefledions  on  the  Tomb  of  Jestis.  297 

enced,  that  sin  produces  sorrow,  it  is  because  this  is 
only  your  seed  time,  and  that  the  time  of  harvest  is 
not  yet  come.  As  easily  may  you  build  a  house 
upon  the  surface  of  the  ocean,  as  attempt  to  lay 
the  foundation  of  true  and  durable  enjoyment  in 
the  contempt  of  God's  counsels,  and  the  disobedi- 
ence of  his  laws. 

In  the  last  place — To  look  into  the  tomb  where 
Jesus  lay,  to  employ  our  thoughts  on  the  se- 
pulchre from  which  he  arose,  has  a  natural  tenden- 
cy to  confirm  and  encourage  the  joys  and  hopes  of 
virtue. 

Christians,  there  is  a  sense  in  which  you  may 
adopt  the  language  of  the  Psalmist,  "  I  have  set  the 
Lord  always  before  me  ;  because  he  is  at  my  right 
hand  I  shall  not  be  moved."  Yes,  Christians,  you 
may  take  up  the  Apostle's  triumph.  If  you  breathe 
his  spirit,  you  may  enjoy  his  transport;  "Blessed 
be  the  God  and  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
who,  of  his  abundant  mercy,  by  the  resurrection  of 
his  Son  from  the  dead,  hath  begotten  us  again  unto 
a  lively  hope  of  an  inheritance  incorruptible,  unde- 
filed,  and  that  fadeth  not  away."  "Because  he 
lives,  ye  shall  live  also."  Let  us  truly  enjoy  our 
lives  in  devoting  them  unto  God — let  us  trust  him, 
who  gave  our  blessed  Lord  the  victory  over  death,  to 
befriend  us  also,  in  the  dying  hour. 

We  will  take  the  comfort  suggested  by  the 
empty  sepulchre  of  him.  by  whose  name  we  arc 
called  ;  we  will  take  it  for  our  departed  friends  ; 
we  will  take  it  for  our  dying  selves.  In  the  Hea- 
venly World  we  shall  find  our  pious  fathers,  and 
thither  our  pious  children  shall  hereafter  repair.  In 
that  glorious  morning  when  we  shall  have  got  this 


298  Reflections  on  the  Tomb  of  Jesus. 

conflict  over,  we  shall  tell  the  king  of  terrours,  that 
the  yictory  is  ours! 

"  Therefore,  my  beloved  brethren,  be  ye  stead- 
fast, immovable,  always  abounding  in  the  work  of 
the  Lord,  for  as  much  as  ye  know  that  your  labour 
shall  not  be  in  vain,  in  the  Lord." 


PRAYER. 

Holy,  holy,  holy,  Lord  God  Almighty,  who  can 
understand  his  errours  ?  cleanse  thou  us  from  secret 
faults,  keep  back  thy  servants  also  from  presump- 
tuous sins,  let  them  not  have  dominion  over  us. 
Deliver  us  from  that  carnal  mind  which  is  enmity 
against  thee,  and  from  that  love  of  this  world  which 
so  fatally  opposes  itself  to  every  thing  which  is 
truly  excellent. 

Blessed  be  thy  name  that  thou  hast  laid  help  for 
us,  on  one,  who  is  able  to  save  unto  the  uttermost 
all  those  who  come  unto  thee  by  him  !  In  the  gos- 
pel dispensation,  in  the  doctrine  of  Jesus  Christ  our 
Lord,  in  his  obedience  unto  death,  and  his  exalta- 
tion to  a  kingdom,  thou  hast  furnished  us  with  all 
desirable  advantages  to  deliver  us  from  the  domin- 
ion of  sin,  or  to  preserve  us  from  it.  May  the  lave 
of  Ciirist  conslrain  us  to  live  not  unto  ourselves, 
but  unto  him.  May  wo  approve  ourselves  his  faith- 
ful subjects  by  a  conscientious  obedience  to  his 
laws,  by  a  growing  resemblance  to  his  character, 
and  by  our  sincere  concern  to  preserve  the  peace, 
and  to  promote  the  interests  of  his  kingdom.  What- 
soever things  are  just,  true,  pure,  lovely,  venera- 
ble, and  of  good  report,  if  there  be  any  virtue,  if 
there  be  any  praise,  on  these  things  may  we  medi- 
tate, and  in  these  things  may  we  ever  be  studious 
to  excel. 


DISCOURSE     XIX. 

David's    morning  hymn  of  praise. 


Psalm  xix.   1....7. 

.  The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God  ;  and  the  iirmameut  shon- 
eth  his  handy  ivork.  2.  Day  unto  day  uttereth  speech,  and  night 
unto  night  showcth  knowledge.  3.  There  is  no  speech  nor  lan- 
guage, where  their  voice  is  not  heard.  4.  Their  sound  is  gone  out 
through  all  the  earth,  and  their  words  to  the  ends  of  the  world  :  in 
them  hath  he  set  a  tabernacle  for  the  saa  :  S.  Who  is  as  a  bridegroom 
coming  out  of  his  chamber,  rejoicing  as  a  strong  man  to  run  a  race. 
6.  His  going  forth  is  from  the  end  of  the  heaven;  and  his  circuit 
unto  the  ends  of  it :  and  there  is  nothing  hid  from  the  heat 
thereof. 


It  has  been  objected  that  the  celebrated  Author 
of  this  Ode,  and  of  many  other  exquisitely  beauti- 
ful devotional  pieces,  was  not  made  a  better  man  by 
his  devotion,  that  his  moral  conduct  was  not  im- 
proved by  it,  and  that  his  memory,  in  one  fatal  in- 
stance at  least,  is  stigmatized  by  crimes  of  the  deep- 
est die.  That  in  that  instance  he  Avas  deplorably 
deficient  in  the  virtues  of  self-government ;  that  one 
unhappy  deviation  from  the  paths  of  rectitude,  in 
his  case,  as  in  that  of  a  thousand  others,  led  on  to 
another,  and  to  another,  still  more  flagrant  and 
atiocious;  that  being  raised  to  the  pinnacle  of  hu- 
man greatness,  the  power  he  thought  he  possessed 
of  extricating  himself  from  the  ignominy  of  his 
vices,  supplied   an   additional  temptation,  which   he 


:iOO  David's  Morning  Hymn  of  Praise. 

had  not  the  resolution  to  withstand,  no  one  surely 
will  denj  ;  let  his  example  be  held  up  as  an  awful 
proof  of  the  seducible  nature  of  the  human  heart, 
and  "  let  him  who  standeth,  take  heed  lest  he  fall." 

But,  does  it  follow  from  the  inefficacj  of  David's 
piety,  on  some  particular  occasions,  to  overcome 
the  fatal  effects  of  headstrong  passion,  that  there- 
fore, respecting  the  whole  of  his  character,  it  was 
of  no  avail  ?  Contrast  with  this  the  n)any  virtues 
by  which  he  was  distinguished,  his  fortitude,  his 
magnanimity,  his  ardent  zeal  for  the  prosperity  and 
happiness  of  his  people.  Contrast  with  this  his 
deep  repentance,  when  the  Prophet  of  God  awak- 
ened his  sleeping  conscience,  by  the  beautiful  para- 
ble of  the  one  Ewe  Lamb.  Can  any  one  read 
the  heart-rending  strains  of  deep  contrition  in  his 
penitential  Psalms,  and  entertain  a  doubt  that  his 
piety  did  not  exceedingly  meliorate  and  improve 
his  character  ? 

But  it  is  not  our  design  at  present  to  weigh  in  the 
balance,  the  faults  and  the  virtues  of  this  eminent 
person.  His  virtues  surely  we  may  safely  imitate, 
notwithstanding  the  dark  shades  by  which  they 
were  sometimes  overcast.  Like  him,  when  we 
awake  in  the  morning,  enabled  to  return  with  re- 
newed cheerfulness  and  vigour  to  the  several  duties 
of  our  respective  stations,  we  also  may  humble 
ourselves  before  the  presence  of  God.  Like  him, 
at  morning,  at  evening,  at  noon  and  at  midnight, 
may  we  pour  out  our  praises  and  thanksgivings. 
Like  him,  we  may  begin  and  end  the  day  with 
some  serious  inquiry  into  our  own  hearts  and  lives; 
with  some  devout  reflections  on  the  mercy  and 
providence  of  God,  or  some  pious  meditation  on  his 
works  or  in   his  law.     When  other  duties  of  more 


David^s  Morning  Hymn  of  Praise.  301 

immediate  obligation,  call  not  for  our  attention,  as 
they  were  his,  so  these  also  should  be  our  employ- 
ment and  delight :  and  by  these  means,  like  him,  we 
may  endeavour  to  attain  that  sensibility  of  heart 
towards  things  invisible  and  spiritual ;  to  that  ar- 
dent love  of  God  ;  to  that  elevation  and  fervour  of 
devotion  ;  which  so  eminently  adorned  his  charac- 
ter ;  and  by  which  he  stands  so  illustriously  dis- 
tinguished  among  the  sons  of  men. 

The  subject  of  this  psalm  naturally  suggests 
the  supposition,  that  it  was  one  of  David's  morn- 
ing meditations.  Risen  from  the  bed  of  sleep,  his 
powers  refreshed,  his  heart  enlivened,  the  exercise 
of  his  understanding  clear,  vigorous,  and  easy  ;  his 
soul  breathing  out  the  most  fervent  gratitude  to- 
wards that  God,  whose  omnipresence  and  whose 
omnipotence  he  acknowledged,  it  is  not  improbable 
that  he  was  alone,  walking  in  his  palace  on  the 
hill  of  Sion  ;  meditating  on  those  mercies  which 
never  failed  him,  and  on  those  demonstrations  of 
the  glory  of  God  with  which  he  was  continually 
surrounded.  Every  object  he  beheld  aided  his 
devotion,  afforded  him  new  matter  of  admiration 
and  of  praise,  and  seemed  to  declare  aloud  the 
greatness  and  the  goodness  of  that  secret  power, 
by  which  they  were  originally  formed,  and  by  which 
they  are  perpetually  preserved  in  being. 

The  shades  of  night  were  probably  now  passing 
away,  and  the  dawn  of  day  beginning  to  display 
its  transcendent  beauties  ;  all  nature  with  himself 
was  revived,  risen  as  it  were  from  the  dead  ;  and 
as  darkness  drew  aside  her  curtain  from  the  world, 
a  new  creation  rose  up  before  his  eyes.  Tran- 
sported with  the  glorious  sight,  he  itidulged  the 
rapture  it  inspired  in  the  genuine  spirit  of  devotion. 

28 


302  David's  Morning  Hymn  of  Praise. 

All  the  happiness  he  beheld,  he  referred  to  the  first 
great  source  of  good  ;  all  the  power  which  was 
displayed  before  him,  he  ascribed  to  the  divine  en- 
ergy and  operation  ;  and  all  the  wisdom  discove- 
rable in  the  constitution  of  nature  and  the  various 
dependences  and  connexions  of  its  principles,  he 
imputed  to  the  great  original,  by  whose  word  the 
worlds  were  formed,  and  who  made  them  all,  in 
number,  weight,  and  measure. 

Here,  as  in  a  mirror,  he  beheld  the  face  of  his 
Creator;  he  considered  every  expression  of  con- 
tentment or  of  gladness  displayed  in  the  animal 
creation,  as  a  hymn  of  praise  and  of  thanksgiving 
to  the  Almighty,  and  every  being  that  he  looked 
upon,  as  a  pillar  erected  to  his  honour.  The  whole 
fabrick  of  the  universe  seemed  as  one  mighty  monu- 
ment, raised  to  perpetuate  the  conviction  of  his  ex- 
istence, his  universal  government,  and  the  remem- 
brance of  his  transcendent  excellence.  '  How  as- 
tonishing,' would  he  exclaim,  '  are  the  degrees  of 
excellence  I  can  observe  between  the  reptile  that 
crawls  beneath  my  feet,  and  that  vital,  rational,  im- 
mortal image  of  God  himself,  that  animates  this 
clay-built  body  !  No  power  of  mine,  raised  as  I  am 
to  the  pinnacle  of  human  greatness,  could  make  a 
pile  of  grass,  or  even  create  the  smallest  particle  of 
matter.  The  secret  energy  that  sustains  so  won- 
derfully this  various  fabrick,  that  feeds  these  vital 
powers,  that  directs,  combines,  and  actuates  their 
operations ;  that  prolongs  them  from  time  to  time, 
that  renews  them  in  their  respective  seasons,  and 
that  carries  them  through  their  successive  changes 
to  their  appointed  periods,  surpasses  all  my  con- 
ceptions, and  eludes  my  most  diligent  inquiries.  O 
God,  the  more  I  am  conversant  with  thy  works,  the 
more  arguments  do  1  gather  of  thy  perfect  skill,  of 


David* s  Morning  Hymn  of  Praise.  303 

thine  Infinite  wisdom  ;  the  more  instances  do  I  col- 
lect of  thy  boundless  goodness  ;  the  greater  convic- 
tion do  I  feel  of  my  incapacity  to  fathom  the  depth 
of  thy  counsels,  and  of  my  total  inability  to  show 
forth  all  thy  praise  !  How  manifold  are  thy  works, 
in  wisdom  hast  thou  made  them  all ;  all  thy  crea- 
tures praise  thee  ;  the  earth  is  full  of  thy  riches,  and 
so  also  is  that  great  and  wide  sea,  the  emblem  of  thine 
own  immensity,  where  my  views  are  lost,  and  my 
prospects  are  unbounded!' 

Whilst  thus  the  thoughts  of  the  Psalmist  were 
ranging  through  the  earth,  and  gathering  from  every 
object  that  met  his  eye,  some  fragrant  instance  of 
praise  and  of  thanksgiving  ;  whilst  thus,  in  a  manner 
perfectly  becoming  the  intellectual  and  moral  nature, 
he  was  presenting  his  morning  sacrifice,  the  sun  arose 
— he  turned  to  behold  that  glorious  luminary,  and 
struck  with  its  majestick  splendour,  his  thoughts 
were  instantly  transferred  from  earth  to  heaven. 
His  heart  already  glowing  with  sentiments  of  piety, 
the  whole  current  of  his  affections  set  so  strongly 
towards  God,  that  it  could  not  be  impeded  or  divert- 
ed, but  bearing  forwards,  and  carrying  every  thing 
along  with  it,  augmented  by  every  object  that  it  met 
with,  he  proceeded  in  the  same  strain  of  thought, 
and  the  same  spirit  of  devotion,  to  adopt  the  lan- 
guage of  the  text.  '  Nor  is  thy  bounty,  O  God, 
confined  to  the  earth  on  which  we  dwell  ;  nor  are 
thy  perfections  written  alone  on  the  dust  of  the 
ground,  or  merely  enstamped  upon  every  animal 
that  treads  there. — That  azure  canopy  which  is 
stretched  out  above,  with  all  the  shining  ornaments 
that  distinguish  it,  an  infinitely  greater,  and  an  in- 
finitely nobler  fabrick,  acknowledges  the  same 
original,  and  derives  alike  its  splendours,  and  its 
existence,  from  our  God.'     "  Of  old  did  he  lay  the 


304  David^s  Morning  Hymn  of  Praise. 

foundations  of  the  earth,  and  the  heavens  also  are 
the  work  of  his  hands."  '  While  things  terrestrial 
are  so  loud  and  so  harmonious  in  his  praise,  celes- 
tial things  are  neither  silent  nor  unintelligible.  Ask 
them,  if  the  splendours  with  which  they  shine  be 
their  own  ?  Make  reason  their  interpreter,  and  they 
answer,  No.'  "  The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God, 
and  the  firmament  showeth  his  handy  work."  '  Look 
upon  the  firmament,  was  it  always  thus  arrayed  ? — 
No;  to  the  eye  of  reason,  to  the  judicious  and  dis- 
cerning mind,  there  appear  those  marks  of  deriva- 
tion and  dependence  which  condemn  the  worshipper 
of  the  celestial  luminaries  ;  which  demonstrate  that 
they  also  are  creatures  of  the  same  power,  that  made 
the  earth  and  its  inhabitants  :  so  similar  in  all  its 
laws,  so  closely  connected  with  them  in  all  its  inte- 
rests, we  are  not  permitted  to  ascribe  to  them  any 
higher  honour,  than  that  of  being  the  heralds  of  our 
Creator's  praise.' 


"The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God,  and  the 
firmament  showeth  his  handy  work.  Day  unto  day 
uttereth  speech,  and  night  unto  night,  showeth 
knowledge."  ^  It  is  not  in  one  place  or  aspect  of 
the  heavens  only,  that  the  glcry  of  God  is  revealed: 
the  noon  day  splendour  displays  indeed  that  uncre- 
ated and  eternal  source  of  light,  in  which  there  is  no 
darkness  at  all ;  but  it  is  not  less  clearly,  nor  less 
abundantly  manifested  in  the  more  numerous,  though 
more  distant  suns,  which  we  see  burning  in  the  mid- 
night firmament,' 

'  Not  merely  once  has  this  glorious  host  displayed 
itself  in  the  cause  of  religion  and  of  God.  Once  to 
have  beheld  the  starry  firmament  ;  once  to  have 
seen  the  sun  "•  rejoicing  in  his  strength;"  to  have 
enjoyed  one  cheerful  day,  to  have   waked  through 


David's  Morning  Hymn  of  Praise.  305 

one  awful  night,  though  from  henceforth  the  amaz- 
ing vision  had  never  more  been  exhibited  to  our 
sight,  must  have  left  behind  them  such  impressions, 
as  no  time  could  have  effaced  ;  such  matter  of  seri- 
ous contemplation,  as  could  not  have  failed  to  dis- 
pose the  thoughtful  mind  to  religious  sentiment  and 
devout  affection ;  such  deep  conviction,  such  re- 
joicing evidence  of  an  eternal  and  infinitely  perfect 
Being,  who  made  the  universe,  and  rules  it,  as  could 
hardly  have  failed  to  create  an  ardent  desire  of  ob- 
taining a  more  perfect  knowledge  of  him  ;  a  sincere 
delight  in  the  contemplation  of  his  perfections,  and 
the  study  of  his  will,  and  a  solicitous  endeavour  to 
obtain  the  consolation  of  his  friendship.' 

Thus,  in  like  manner  as  we  are  told  that  those 
glorious  spirits,  who  dwell  in  his  immediate  presence, 
cease  not  day  or  night  to  celebrate  in  the  most  per- 
fect manner  the  high  praises  of  the  Lord,  so  the 
Psalmist  has  most  beautifully  and  justly  represented 
the  celestial  luminaries  as  declaring  their  Creator's 
Glory,  and  never  ceasing  to  declare  it;  as  delighted 
with  the  employment  and  never  weary  of  the  work ; 
as  burning  with  a  fervent  zeal  to  signalize  themselves 
in  the  service  of  their  Maker;  as  actuated  with  an 
intelligent  and  rational  solicitude  that  their  ministry 
should  prove  successful  with  the  sons  of  men  ;  suc- 
cessful to  impress  their  minds  with  a  sense  of  their 
duty  unto  God,  and  to  engage  them  in  the  pious 
contemplation  of  his  excellencies,  and  a  cheerful  con- 
formity to  his  will.  The  day  therefore,  when  it  has 
finished  its  course,  when  it  is  taking  its  leave  of 
those  whom  it  has  been  cheering  and  enlightening, 
and  is  now  departing  into  eternity,  to  return  no  more 
unto  mankind;  is  most  beautifully  described  by  this 
sacred  Poet  as  looking  backwards  to  address  its  suc- 
cessor ;  committing  to  the  coming  day,  the  ministry, 


a06  David^s  Morning  Hymn  of  Praise. 

which  itself  was  laying  down  ;  urging  the  next  rising 
morning,  to  begin  with  the  Almighty's  praise  ;  to 
prolong  the  instructive  lesson,  which  itself  could 
stay  no  longer  to  inculcate ;  and  to  resume  those 
pious  admonitions,  which  itself  could  repeat  no 
more.  "  Day  unto  day  uttereth  speech,"  and  in 
like  manner,  proceeds  the  Psalmist,  "  night  unto 
night  showeth  knowledge."  As  if  the  night  also,  not 
contented  with  what  itself  had  revealed  of  the  awful 
grandeur  and  boundless  majesty  of  God  ;  not  satis- 
fied with  the  lessons  which  itself  had  read  to  the 
serious  and  rational  spectator,  of  its  solemn  shades, 
and  its  living  fires;  leaves  it,  when  the  returning 
day  has  put  an  end  to  its  own  ministry,  leaves  it  in 
pious  charge  with  the  night  that  shall  succeed,  to 
resume  its  doctrine,  to  continue  its  instructions  ;  and, 
when  its  own  course  is  likewise  finished,  to  teach 
its  successor,  the  night  that  shall  follow,  in  what 
manner  to  employ  its  powers  and  its  voice  to  per- 
petuate the  Creator's  praise — "  Night  unto  night 
showeth  knowledge." 

In  this  manner,  with  the  greatest  propriety,  as 
well  as  with  the  most  lively  eloquence,  does  the 
Psalmist  represent  to  us  the  uniformity  of  Nature, 
and  the  regular  revolutions  of  the  heavens,  with 
the  evidence  they  afford  of  that  kind  and  power- 
ful Providence  from  which  their  motions  proceed, 
and  by  which  they  are  preserved  and  governed. 
The  marks  of  their  Creators  infinite  perfection  are 
indeed  so  clearly  impressed  upon  the  heavens 
above,  that  no  serious  observer  can  err,  either  con- 
cerning their  origin,  or  concerning  the  amiable  and 
adorable  character  of  their  great  Author. 

To  express  this  sentiment,  in  itself  so  plain,  so 
just  and   true,  we  see  the  Psalmist   has  employed 


David^s  Morning  Hymn  of  Praise.  SOT 

the  noblest  imagery,  he  has  ascribed  to  the  hea- 
vens, intelligence  and  speech :  he  has  animated 
the  celestial  orbs  with  the  fervours  of  intense  de- 
votion, and  has  endued  them  with  a  voice  that  may 
be  distinctly  heard  by  all  the  inhabitants  of  this 
world.  He  describes  their  alternations,  their  dif- 
ferent states  and  conditions,  as  speaking  one  unto 
another  in  the  audience  of  mankind,  concerning  the 
infinite  perfection  of  that  uncreated  mind,  from 
whose  good  pleasure  and  whose  power  these  vi- 
cissitudes proceed. 

Having  thus,  with  this  bold,  yet  not  unjustifiable 
sublimity,  celebrated  the  skill  of  the  Creator  as 
manifested  in  that  majestick  canopy  which  he  hath 
spread  over  our  heads,  it  seems  as  if  the  thought 
had  struck  his  mind,  that  perhaps  his  imagination 
had  been  too  daring  in  its  flight  j  and  that  the  chief 
of  the  choir,  to  whom  this  Psalm  was  addressed, 
and  the  congregation  by  whom  it  was  to  be  employ- 
ed in  the  publick  worship  of  God,  might  be  startled 
and  confounded,  and  doubtful  in  what  manner  they 
were  to  understand  the  royal  Poet,  when  they  heard 
him  ascribing  to  the  heavens,  intelligence  and 
speech.  They  saw  the  sun  from  day  to  day  re- 
peating his  accustomed  journey,  but  they  heard  no 
voice  from  heaven ;  they  saw  the  moon  and  stars, 
from  night  to  night  travelling  their  appointed 
course,  but  the  most  solemn  silence  was  observed. 
To  obviate  any  doubts  or  difficulties,  that  from  this 
cause  might  disturb  and  perplex  the  mind,  the 
Psalmist  goes  on  in  the  same  sublime  and  pious 
strain  in  which  he  had  began. — "No  speech,  no 
language,  their  voice  is  not  heard." 

The  beauty  of  the  original  is  absolutely  lost,  the 
sense  exceedingly  misrepresented,  and  the  connex- 


308  David's  Morning  Hymn  of  Praise. 

ion  strangely  violated,  as  it  stands  in  our  version  5 
for,  the  Psalmist  is  not  here  asserting  that  the  voice 
of  the  heavens  is  universally  heard,  and  is  univer- 
sally understood  by  people  of  all  nations  and  all 
languages;  this,  he  asserts  in  the  next  verse,  and  is 
here  only  preparing  the  way  for  that  observation. 
Here,  he  acknowledges,  that  in  strict  propriety,  iq 
the  reality  and  truth  of  things,  these  heavenly  lu- 
minaries have  no  speech  nor  language,  no  voice  to 
be  perceived  by  the  external  sense  ;  nevertheless 
that  their  sound  (not  their  /me,  as  it  stands  in  our 
version,  which  is  another  errour  that  has  greatly  im- 
paired the  beauty  and  perspicuity  of  this  inimitable 
ode)  is  gone  forth  through  all  the  earth,  and  their 
words  unto  the  ends  of  the  world. 

The  sense  and  connexion  of  the  whole  passage, 
literally  interpreted,  is  as  follows,  viz. 

"  The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God,  and  the 
firmament  proclaims  his  workmanship.  Day  unto 
day  uttereth  speech,  and  night  unto  night  teacheth 
knowledge:  no  speech  have  they  indeed,  no  lan- 
guage, and  their  voice  is  not  heard  ;  yet,  into  all 
the  world  is  their  sound  gone  forth,  and  to  the  end 
of  the  earth,  their  words."  i.  e.  It  is  true,  the 
heavens  have  no  audible  voice,  but  they  have  lan- 
guage, which  all  rational  spectators  can  understand. 
If  they  merely  spake  to  the  external  sense,  by  those 
only  would  they  be  understood  whose  language 
might  be  similar  to  theirs — they  address  not  the  ear, 
but  the  understandino; ;  their  lanffuase  is  universal; 
it  is  heard  from  one  end  of  the  creation  to  the  other; 
understood,  not  only  throughout  this  earth  of  ours, 
but  throughout  all  the  universe  of  God  ;  and  where- 
ever  there  is  an  intelligent  spectator,  whether  here 
or  in  any  other  world,  there,  they  proclaim  the 
goodness  of  their  Creator. 


David's  Morning  Hymn  of  Praise.  309 

Having  thus  celebrated  the  glory  of  God,  as  in 
general  displayed  in  the  firmament  of  heaven,  he 
proceeds  to  take  more  especial  notice  of  that  sub- 
lime object,  which  seems  first  to  have  drawn  his 
meditations  to  the  heavens — the  sun  just  rising  in 
his  sight. 

"  In  them"  (i.  e.  in  the  heavens,)  he  proceeds, 
"  hath  God  set  a  tabernacle  for  the  sun."  Here, 
if  I  am  not  mistaken,  the  Psalmist  speaks  of  that 
purple  light,  which  is  the  forerunner  of  the  morn- 
ing;  of  those  painted  clouds  which  usually  adorn 
the  eastern  heavens  before  the  rising  of  the  sun. 
On  these  he  had  been  gazing,  expecting  that  ere 
long  this  glorious  luminary  would  step  forth  from 
behind  them,  ^d  skow  himself  unto  the  world. 
Very  naturally  and  very  beautifully  the  Psalmist 
considered  these  as  a  tabernacle,  a  splendid  pavilion 
wrought  by  the  hand  of  God ;  where,  this  great 
source  of  day,  during  the  shadows  of  the  night,  had 
leposed  himself,  and  from  which  he  was  abt)ut  to 
issue  forth,  with  renewed  brightness  and  recruited 
strength.  This  conception  he  prolongs,  and  pur- 
sues the  idea  through  the  following  verses. 

"  In  them  hath  he,  (God)  set  a  tabernacle  for 
the  sun,  who,"  adds  the  Psalmist,  "is  as  a  bride- 
groom coming  out  of  his  chamber,  rejoicing  as  a 
strong  man  to  run  a  race.  His  going  forth  is  from 
the  end  of  the  heaven,  and  his  circuit  to  the  end  of 
it,  and  there  is  nothing  hid  from  the  heat  thereof." 
— '  How  vast,  how  amazing  is  the  course  he  must 
finish  before  night,  from  that  extremity  of  heaven 
whence  he  is  now  issuing  forth,  through  the  im- 
measurable vault  that  bends  above  my  head,  to  the 
extremest  west,  where  I  last  night  watched  his  de- 
parting beams.  Nor,  is  the  extent,  or  the  rapidity 
29 


310  David*s  Morning  Hymn  of  Praise. 

of  his  yearly  circuit  which  forms  our  seasons  and 
their  changes,  less  wonderful  than  those  of  his 
diurnal  round,  which  constitutes  our  day  and  night; 
by  means  of  one,  the  inhabitants  of  every  land  en- 
joy in  regular  succession  the  benefits  of  light  and 
darkness ;  by  the  other,  at  uniform  and  equal  pe- 
riods, every  climate  is  blest  with  the  necessary  in- 
terchanges of  seed  time  and  harvest,  summer  and 
winter;  and  thus  are  the  benefits  of  his  enlivening 
warmth,  equally  and  liberally  dispensed  to  every 
portion  of  this  globe,  and  to  every  creature  under 
heaven.' 

Thus  have  1  endeavoured  to  illustrate  to  you  the 
true  sense,  beauty,  and  piety,  of  the  first  part  of  this 
sacred  hymn.  You  have  seen  tha.t  it  suffers  much 
and  loses  a  great  deal  of  its  perspicuity,  its  elegance, 
and  sublimity,  from  the  inaccuracy  of  our  version. 
There  is  however  in  our  language  a  poetick  version 
which  does  greater  justice  to  the  original ;  I  will 
not  say  that  the  wortliy  author  has  retained  all  the 
thoughts  and  all  the  sublimity,  together  with  all  the 
simplicity  of  the  royal  poet,  but  this  I  may  say,  that 
it  is  composed  in  the  same  elevated  spirit  of  devo- 
tion, and  that  whoever  has  sufficient  sensibility  of 
heart  to  relish  and  admire  the  one,  cannot  be  dis- 
gusted or  unaffected  by  the  other. 

1.  The  spacious  firmament  on  high, 
With  all  the  blue  ethereal  sky, 

And  spangled  heavens,  a  shining  frame, 
Their  great  original  proclaim. 

2.  Theunwearj'd  sun,  from  day  to  day, 
Doth  its  Creator's  power  display  ; 
And  publishes  to  ev'ry  land. 

The  work  of  an  almighty  hand. 

3.  Soon  as  the  evening  shades  prevail, 
The  moon  ^akes  np  the  wondrous  tale ; 


i 


David's  Morning  Hymn  of  Praise.  311 

And  nightly  to  the  listening  earth 
Repeats  the  story  of  her  birth ; 

4.  Whilst  all  the  stars  which  round  her  burn, 
And  all  the  planets  io  their  turn, 
Confirm  the  tidings  as  they  roll, 

And  spread  the  truth  from  pole  to  pole. 

5.  What,  tho'  in  solemn  silence  all 
Move  round  this  dark  terrestrial  ball  ; 

What,  tho'  no  real  voice  nor  sound  ; 

Amid  these  radiant  orbs  be  found  ; 

6.  In  reason's  ear  they  all  rejoice. 
And  utter  forth  a  glorious  roice; 
For  ever  singing,  as  they  shine, 

"  The  hand  that  made  us  is  divine." 


PRAYER. 

Who  iu  the  heavens  can  be  compared  unto  the 
Lord  ?  or  who  among  the  sons  of  the  mighty  can 
be  likened  unto  our  God  ?  Thou,  O  Lord,  art  the 
eternal  fountain  of  hght,  and  hfe,  and  happiness ; 
the  creator  of  all  things  visible  and  invisible;  the 
constant  supporter,  the  gracious  governour,  the 
daily  preserver  of  universal  nature ;  the  tender 
father  and  the  righteous  judge,  of  angels  and  of 
men  ! 

Thou  art  great,  O  Lord,  beyond  our  most  en- 
larged conceptions,  may  thy  grandeur  make  deep 
impressions  on  our  souls ;  may  we  never  presume 
to  take  thy  holy  name  upon  our  lips,  unaccompani- 
ed by  the  deepest  sentiments  of  reverence  and  awe  ; 
for  who  shall  not  fear  before  thee,  and  glorify  thy 
namcf^ — Thou  art  good  also  beyond  all  our  grati- 
tude, and  thy  mercies  unto  us,  surpass  all  number  ! 


312  David's  Moriiing  Hymn  of  Praise. 

What  shall  we  render  unto  thee  for  all  thy  bene- 
fits ?  We  would  love  thee  with  all  our  heart,  and 
soul,  and  mind,  and  strength ! 

Most  devoutly  do  we  bless  thee,  O  most  mer- 
ciful Father,  that  thou  hast  made  us  capable  of 
knowing  whence  all  our  comforts  flow;  of  render- 
ing thee  a  reasonable  voluntary  service  :  of  hold- 
ing some  communion  with  thee  upon  earth,  in  the 
sacred  duties  of  religious  meditation,  prayer,  and 
praise  ;  and  of  rendering  ourselves  more  fit  for  the 
exalted  services  of  thine  heavenly  kingdom,  when 
time  and  days  shall  be  no  more  ! 


DISCOURSE    XX. 

ON      THE      GLORY      OF      GOD,     AS    DISPLAYED    BY 
THE    HEAVENLY    LUMINARIES. 


PART    II. 


Psalm  tlvs.  1. 

The  Heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  firmament  showeth 
his  handy  work. 

There  is  scarcely  an  instance  of  neglect  or  insen- 
sibility more  unworthy  of  our  character,  than  to 
live  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  ten  thousand  ob- 
jects that  proclaim  the  glory  of  God,  and  yet  to 
live  carelessly  and  stupidly  inattentive  to  their  voice  ; 
indevoutly  unobservant  of  that  secret  agency  by 
which  they  are  sustained  and  governed  ;  veiled,  in- 
deed, it  must  be  confessed,  by  the  intervention  of 
second  causes,  but  the  glory  of  which,  notwith- 
standing, shines  through  the  veil  with  such  bright- 
ness, that  every  attentive  eye  may  see,  and  every^ 
human  heart  is  bound  to  acknowledge,  to  admire, 
and  to  adore  it. 

Rejecting  every  thing  abstruse  or  remote  from 
common  apprehension,  I  shall  avail  myself  of  the 
text  as  a  guide;  for  we  shall  stand  in  need  of  some 
pilot  or  landmark,  that  we  may  not  lose  ourselves 
in  so  immense  an  ocean.     Even  those  instances  of 


314  On  the  Glory  of  God,  as  displayed 

divine  perfection,  which  are  manifested  in  the  hea- 
vens, and  lie  open  and  level  unto  common  appre- 
hension, are  so  very  numerous,  that  not  one,  nor 
many  Discourses  would  be  sufficient  to  collect  them. 
I  must  content  myself,  therefore,  with  the  mention 
of  a  very  few ;  which  may  serve  as  a  kind  of  spe- 
cimen of  the  rest,  and  as  an  illustration  of  the  man- 
ner in  which  we  ought  to  meditate  on  the  works  of 
God. 

It  is  most  natural,  in  the  first  place,  to  take  no- 
tice of  the  external  aspect  of  the  heavens,  for  even 
thence  we  may  learn  something  of  the  glory  of  their 
Maker,  and  derive  some  considerations  to  increase 
our  reverence  of  him.  In  the  productions  of  hu- 
man power  and  skill,  there  is  ordinarily  something 
even  in  the  first  appearance,  previous  to  any  diligent 
examination,  without  any  accurate  survey,  which 
bespeaks  the  excellency  (if  the  works  be  indeed 
excellent)  of  the  hand  that  made  them,  and  which 
demonstrates  that  they  are  the  performance  of  a 
master:  in  the  works  of  God,  therefore,  we  may 
reasonably  expect,  that  on  the  most  transient  sur- 
vey, there  should  appear  something  infinitely  mag- 
nificent and  great,  something  that  should  mark  them 
as  divine. — The  expectation  is  just,  and,  in  no  in- 
stance, will  it  ever  be  disappointed,  but  in  no  in- 
stance will  it  be  more  completely  satisfied  than  in 
the  contemplation  of  the  heavens. 

In  that  azure  vault,  though  we  regard  not  the 
luminaries  that  revolve  there,  the  most  perfect  sim- 
plicity is  united  with  the  most  majestick  grandeur. 
Who  could  stretch  out  the  heavens  but  an  Al- 
mighty arm  ?  or  who  could  paint  them  in  their 
various  attractive  and  ever-changing  beauties,  but 
an  all-skilful   Artist  ?   In    the    noon  of  day,  what 


by  the  Heavenly  Liuninaries.  316 

surpassing  glory  ;  in  the  noon  of  night,  what  solemn 
shades  !  If  we  look  to  the  rising  sun,  how  majes- 
tick  is  his  motion  !  how  bright  his  radiance  !  the 
whole  scene  of  his  appearance,  how  magnificent 
and  sublime  !  If  we  gaze  on  the  setting  sun,  what 
eye  is  not  struck  by  the  innumerable  dyes  with 
which  he  tinges  the  western  Heavens  ?  What  art 
can  rival  the  painting  of  his  declining  beams,  or 
what  heart  does  not  feel  itself  composed  and  sof- 
tened, by  a  spectacle,  so  tranquil,  and  serene  ? 
The  mid-day  blaze  is  at  once  an  image  and  a  proof 
of  his  unutterable  glory  who  dwells  in  light  to 
which  no  man  can  approach — the  ten  thousand 
lamps  that  adorn  the  nightly  firmament,  that  even 
cheer  its  horrours  while  they  make  its  gloom  more 
sensible  and  awful,  could  be  suspended  by  no  other, 
than  an  Almighty  Architect.  That  solemn  scene 
declares  his  power  to  involve  us  in  the  most  tre- 
mendous ruin ;  it  speaks  also  of  his  readiness  to 
set  before  us  all  the  profusion  of  his  glory,  and  his 
love  !  The  source  of  day  speaks  aloud  the  praise 
of  that  uncreated  light  in  which  there  is  no  dark- 
ness at  all :  and  when  the  moon  issues  forth  to  sup- 
ply his  absence,  most  powerfully  does  she  remind 
us  of  the  tender  mercy  of  God;  who  gives  to  man 
every  blessing  in  its  season,  and  who  would  not 
leave  us  to  despondence  or  to  want.  Whilst  her 
incessant  changes  exhibit  to  us  an  emblem  of  the 
inconstancy  of  earthly  things,  and  of  human  cha- 
racters, she  exhibits  a  proof  also,  of  an  unchang- 
ing hand,  that  guides  and  rules  her  motions;  even 
the  "  father  of  lights,  with  whom  there  is  no  varia- 
bleness nor  shadow  of  changing." 

Secondly,  The  heavens  still  further  reveal  the 
glory  of  God,  if  we  attend  to  the  magnitude  of  the 
celestial  bodies,  the  vast  extent  of  the  space  in  which 


316  On  the  Glory  of  God,  as  displayed 

they  move,  and  the  rapidity  with  which  their  mo- 
tions are  performed. 

With  a  very  few  exceptions,  every  star  that  we 
behold  is  another  sun  unto  another  system ;  placed 
in  the  centre  of  many  worlds,  and  affording  unto 
each  as  they  revolve  around  it,  their  proper  measure 
both  of  light  and  heat,  in  their  appointed  seasons. 
If  so  many  suns,  how  many  worlds  ?  If  so  many 
worlds,  what  numbers  can  express  the  inconceivable 
multitude  of  their  inhabitants?  all  of  them  the  crea- 
tures of  divine  power,  the  monuments  of  divine  wis- 
dom, the  objects  of  divine  love  ! — Think  then,  while 
you  are  gazing  on  the  starry  firmament,  how  many 
myriads  of  unnumbered  worlds  are  at  that  mo- 
ment rejoicing  in  the  goodness  of  their  Maker,  and 
are  even  then  praising  Him  whose  praise  the  star- 
ry firmament  invites  us  also  to  celebrate.  Of  all 
these  innumerable  worlds,  that  one  on  which  we 
live,  vast  as  we  conceive  it,  is  among  the  least 
that  we  behold.  There  are  those  even  in  our  own 
system,  to  whose  ocean  our  ocean  is  a  pool,  and  to 
whose  mountains  our  mountains  are  as  the  smallest 
hillock  ! 

These  observations  may  a  little  assist  you  in  con- 
ceiving something  of  the  vast  magnitude  of  the 
works  of  God  ;  but  would  you  be  informed  how 
wide  is  the  extent  of  his  creation,  I  can  do  little  more 
than  tell  you,  that  as  his  woiks  for  number  are  innu- 
merable, so  the  space  they  occupy  for  extent  is  im- 
measurable. It  may  aid  your  thoughts  to  be  told, 
that  if  you  travelled  round  this  globe  for  more  than 
3000  times,  you  would  not  have  travelled  by  much 
so  far  as  the  earth  is  distant  from  the  sun  ;  and  that 
taking  even  the  velocity  of  a  cannon-ball,  you  could 
not  complete  your  journey   thither  in  twenty-two 


by  the  Heavenly  Luminaries.  SIT 

years.  Yet,  astonishing  as  is  the  space  that  is 
stretched  out  between  our  world,  and  the  sun  which 
enhghtens  it  daily  by  his  beams,  if  compared  with 
the  space  that  is  comprehended  within  all  the  worlds 
that  revolve  around  him,  it  is  not  so  much  as  the 
area  of  this  house  of  prayer,  to  the  city  wherein  it 
stands,  and,  in  comparison  of  the  universe,  even  that 
space  is  not  as  a  hand's  breadth  to  this  globe  !  What 
an  idea  does  this  give  us  of  the  extent  of  the  Divine 
Presence!  God  is,  wherever  there  are  any  of  his 
creatures  ;  out  of  his  sight,  or  reach,  or  power,  or 
knowledge,  you  cannot  go.  Though  you  flew  with 
the  rapidity  of  a  ray  of  light,  and  prolonged  your 
flight  unto  eternity,  still  as  you  left  new  worlds  be- 
hind, new  worlds  would  be  continually  passed  by, 
and  new  worlds  continually  coming  into  view  ! 

Sinner,  when  the  day  of  retribution  comes,  whither 
canst  thou  betake  tl)yself  for  refuge  ?  What  art  thou, 
that  wrath  should  not  come  upon  thee  to  the  utter- 
most ?  Sinner,  stand  in  awe  of  God  ;  think  how  ter- 
rible a  thing  it  is  to  fall  into  his  hands,  what  art 
thou  that  in  his  wrath  he  should  not  crush  thee  ? 

Go  where  thou  mayst,  faithful  Christian,  whilst 
thou  art  in  this  world,  or  when  thou  leavest  it  ; 
thou  canst  not  go  *'  where  universal  love  shines  not 
around,"  thou  canst  not  go  away  from  God  ;  thou 
canst  not  go  where  he  will  not  be  with  thee,  and 
delight  in  thee,  and  pour  out  the  riches  of  his  libe- 
rality upon  thee  ! 

But  to  return  from  these  reflections  on  the  vast 
extent  of  the  universe,  it  remains  to  be  observed 
under  this  head,  that  the  glory  of  God  appears  not 
only  in  the  immense  extent  of  the  heavens,  and  in 
the  maornitude  of  the  celestial   orbs,  but  also  in  the 

30 


318  On  the  Glory  of  God,  as  displayed. 

inconceivable  rapidity  of  their  motions.  There  is, 
even  in  our  own  system,  a  planetary  world,  which 
proceeds  in  its  course  with  a  speed  so  vast  and  as- 
tonishing, that  even  thought  is  unable  to  keep  pace 
with  it.  Since  the  commencement  of  the  present 
hour,  now  near  its  close,  it  has  passed  through  no 
less  a  space  than  upwards  of  40,000  miles.  Such 
is  the  rapidity  of  this  earth,  on  which  we  live,  in  its 
annual  circuit  round  the  sun,  and  equal  to  this,  or 
even  greater,  is  the  velocity  of  some  others  of  the 
planetary  worlds — Measure,  if  thou  canst,  my  soul, 
or  own  that  no  finite  creature  can  measure,  the  amaz- 
ing power  that  fashioned  these  mighty  orbs,  or  the 
force  that  impels  them  in  their  courses  ! 

Thirdly,  The  heavens  will  reveal  to  us  still  more 
of  the  glory  of  God,  if  we  attend  to  the  constancy 
and  harmony  of  their  motions. 

It  was  originally  a  promise  of  the  Creator,  and  it 
has  been  graciously  fulfilled  from  the  beginning,  that 
seed  time  and  harvest,  summer,  and  winter,  heat 
and  cold,  day  and  night,  should  not  fail.  As  was 
the  first  day  that  shone  upon  the  world,  so  has  this 
day  been.  As  was  the  first  night  that  overshadowed 
it,  so  will  the  night  that  is  approaching,  be.  One 
year,  like  every  other  year,  is  made  up  of  seasons, 
regularly  and  uniformly  interchanging.  The  aspect 
of  the  heavens,  and  the  appearance  of  the  earth,  at 
any  given  period,  has  exactly  answered  to  their  as- 
pect and  appearance  in  any  other  corresponding 
period,  from  this  day  backwards,  through  six  thou- 
sand years,  to  the  birthday  of  our  world  !  And,  what 
is  true  of  this  world  for  that  period,  is  doubtless 
true  often  thousand  other  worlds;  for  a  period  per- 
haps ten  thousand  times  as  long. 


I 


by  the  Heavenly  Luminaries.  319 

What  an  argument  is  here  of  an  all  wise,  almigh- 
ty, and  all  gracious  Providence ;  continually  presid- 
ing over  the  worlds  that  he  has  made ;  actuating, 
directing,  controlling,  and  governing  all  their  revo- 
lutions !  If  at  any  one  moment,  their  heauty,  their 
order,  and  their  magnificence,  be  a  demonstration 
that  they  are  the  creatures  of  unerring  wisdom  ;  the 
perpetuity  of  that  magnificence,  ofthat  order,  and  of 
that  beauty,  is  a  demonstration  equally  clear,  of  the 
constant  agency,  and  providence  of  God. 

Whence  is  it  that  the  sun  never  has  mistaken  its 
rising,  nor  the  moon  her  going  down  ?  Whence  is  it 
that  the  seasons  have  never  been  inverted  nor  con- 
fused ?  Whence  is  it  that  night  has  always  come  at 
its  expected  period  to  the  repose  of  the  weary  la- 
bourer ?  Whence  is  it  that  the  harvest  never  has 
forgotten  to  ripen  that  seed,  which  the  spring  invited 
the  industrious  husbandman  to  sow  ?  In  the  heaven- 
ly orbs,  whence  do  the  vicissitudes  of  day  and  night, 
and  of  the  seasons,  flow  ?  there  is  in  them  no  memo- 
ry, no  reason,  no  intelligence;  they  move  as  they 
are  impelled,  and  have  no  other  powers  or  influen- 
ces than  those  that  are  imparted  to  them,  or  impress- 
ed upon  them,  by  a  foreign  hand  ;  by  the  energy 
of  an  omnipresent  spirit;  it  is  to  the  glory,  there- 
fore, of  that  omnipresent  spirit,  that  they  shine  : 
In  all  their  changes  they  obey  his  will,  and  in  all 
their  revolutions  they  manifest  his  wisdom  and  his 
goodness.  It  is  because  he  changes  not,  that  the 
order  which  was  first  established,  is  not  inverted 
or  invaded ;  "  all  things  continue  unto  this  day 
according  to  his  ordinances,  because  all  are  his 
servants." 

But  again.  It  is  not  only  the  constancy  and  regu- 
larity of  the  heavenly  revolutions   that  declare  the 


320  On  the  Glory  of  God,  as  displayed 

glory  of  God  ;  his  glory  is  still  farther  illustrated  by 
their  perfect  harmony  and  agreement.  The  host 
of  heaven  is  innumerable  ;  millions  of  worlds  are 
continually  moving  with  infinite  rapidity  through 
the  immeasurable  space  that  lies  around  us;  whence 
is  it  that  they  prove  so  faithful  to  their  courses, 
that  they  never  wander  from  their  own  proper 
path,  that  they  never  interfere  with  each  others 
circuit,  that  no  concussions  or  convulsions  happen, 
and  that  the  benefits  which  they  are  intended*  mu- 
tually to  impart,  are  never  intercepted  or  defeated? 
In  many  instances  their  paths  cross  each  other, 
whence  is  it  that  no  mischiefs  come  to  pass  ?  Let 
one  world  only  arrive  a  little  sooner  or  a  little 
later  at  a  certain  point,  and  how  tremendous  would 
be  the  ruin  that  would  ensue  ! 

Fourthly,  The  Heavens  will  reveal  to  us  still 
more  of  their  Creator's  glory,  if  we  attend  to  the 
utility  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  and  of  their  motions. 

No  one  can  be  insensible  of  the  innumerable 
blessings  we  derive  from  the  agency  of  that  glo- 
rious luminary,  of  which  the  Psalmist  so  beauti- 
fully says,  that  "  God  hath  set  a  tabernacle  for  him 
in  the  heavens."  It  is  evident  to  ail,  that  the  sun 
is  the  great  source  of  our  light  and  heat.  Without 
light,  the  face  of  nature  would  be  one  universal 
blank — all  would  be  gloom,  discomfoi  t,  suspicion, 
and  dismay.  The  various  beauties  with  which  the 
face  of  nature  is  adorned,  of  such  efficacy  to  delight 
the  heart  of  man,  and  to  delineate  his  Creator's  ex- 
cellence, would  then  have  been  bestowed  in  vain  : 
they  could  not  have  administered  either  to  the  plea- 
sure or  instruction  of  the  children  of  men,  or  have 
discovered  any  thing  of  their  Creator's  excellence. 
Confined,  as  must  then  have  been  their  knowledge 


hy  the  Heavenly  Luminaries.  321 

and  improvement,  if  indeed  their  very  existence  in 
such  circumstances  could  have  been  preserved, 
what  would  have  been  the  intricacy  and  confusion 
of  their  affairs?  what  utter  strangers  must  they  have 
been  to  those  things  most  intimately  connected  with 
them,  and  which  are,  at  the  same  time,  most  de- 
hghiful,  and  most  important  to  their  welfare  ?  So 
unfavourable,  indeed,  would  have  been  a  situation 
like  this,  to  the  moral  character  and  moral  con- 
duct of  men,  that  without  the  hope  of  an  approach- 
ing dawn,  without  the  expectation  of  better  things 
to  come,  life,  in  this  condition,  could  hardly  have 
been  esteemed  a  blessins;. — So  miserable  and  so 
fatal  would  have  been  the  consequences,  if  we  had 
been  deprived  of  those  cheering  rays,  which  mani- 
fest at  once  the  beauties  and  the  wonders  with 
which  we  are  surrounded  ! 

If  again  that  glorious  luminary  should  withhold 
his  heat,  if  the  genial  warmth  that  he  imparts  to 
all  things  here  below,  were  intercepted,  or,  if  our 
Almighty  Maker  had  not  provided  for  us  so  con- 
stant and  convenient  a  source  of  vital  warmth  and 
comfort,  the  earth  had  been  congealed  into  one 
solid  and  inseparable  mass;  no  fluids  would  have 
circulated  through  the  globe,  or  through  the  ani- 
mal or  vegetable  system  ;  and  those  motions  and 
revolutions  on  which  every  kind  of  life  depends, 
would  have  stood  still.  Day  and  night  would  then 
have  had  no  distinction,  but  that  of  light,  and  the 
want  of  light;  and  the  seasons  would  have  bi ought 
no  changes,  but  what  consisted  in  their  difl'erent 
proportions  to  each  other  of  day  and  night;  so 
useful  and  so  necessary  are  the  solar  beams  to  en- 
lighten and  to  animate  this  world  of  ours;  so  ne- 
cessary to  the  comfort,  as  well  as  to  the  preservation 
of  its  various  inhabitants. 


822  On  the  Glory  of  God,  as  displayed 

Yet  various  and  unspeakably  great  as  are  the 
bJessings  we  derive  from  the  light  and  heat  of  the 
sun  ;  perpetual  day  would  not  be  a  blessing.  The 
interchanges  of  day  and  night,  are  not  only  agree- 
able in  themselves  for  their  variety,  useful  for  the 
different  displays  they  exhibit  of  the  Creator's  wis- 
dom and  power,  the  one  necessary  to  action,  the 
other  friendly  to  repose  ;  but  to  these  also,  to  the 
regular  return  of  evening  cold,  as  well  as  of  daily 
"Warmth,  we  are  indebted  for  those  dews  and  rains 
that  are  the  refreshment  and  the  nourishment  of  the 
vegetable  kingdom,  without  which,  the  earth  would 
be  parched  into  dust  and  ashes. 

These  are  a  mere  specimen,  two  or  three  select 
instances  out  of  a  thousand  that  might  be  collected, 
of  the  benefit  we  derive  from  the  presence,  and  the 
absence  of  the  sun. 

If  again  we  turn  our  thoughts  tt  the  vicissitudes 
of  the  seasons,  another  benefit  which  we  derive  from 
the  great  lamp  of  day;  we  shall  have  a  new  in- 
stance of  the  Creator's  goodness  in  the  utility  of 
this  constitution.  Admitting  that  in  itself  some 
one  of  the  seasons  may  appear  more  desirable  than 
another,  yet  each  has  its  peculiar  benefits  and 
beauties;  and  a  regular  alternation  by  producing  a 
combination  of  all  their  blessinofs,  is  more  desirable 
than  the  unvaried  continuance  of  any  one  season. 

If  we  had  continually  been  indulged  with  the  plea- 
sures and  the  benefits  of  summer,  the   other  side  of 

the   orlobe  must  have  been  frozen  in   eternal  winter. 

•  •      •      I 
Nor  should  we  have  had  any  cause  to  rejoice  m  the 

indulgence  long;  for,  as  all  the  seasons  are  accom- 
modated to  the  service  and  the  constitution  of  man- 
kind,  so  likewise  are  they    adapted    one  unto   an- 


by  the  Heavenly  Luminaries.  323. 

other.  If  continual  winter  were  to  prevail,  the 
productions  of  the  earth  would  not  suffice  for  the 
subsistence  of  a  very  small  part  of  those  that  now 
live  comfortably  upon  it;  and  if,  on  the  contrary,  it 
were  continually  teeming  with  the  profusion  of 
summers'  fruits  and  herbage,  all  care  and  fore- 
thought, and  probably  in  great  measure,  all  indus- 
try and  activity,  on  the  part  of  man,  would  be  pre- 
cluded, to  the  great  detriment  both  of  his  body  and 
mind.  The  gifts  of  the  Almighty  would  be  vainly 
lavished  in  a  measure  far  exceeding  the  wants  of 
his  creatures,  and  in  a  manner  much  unbecoming 
the  wisdom  of  the  bestower.  The  winter  not  only 
seasonably  causes  the  earth  to  cease  from  her  la- 
bours, when  she  has  sufficiently  supplied  the  ne- 
cessities of  her  inhabitants,  but  at  the  same  time 
bringfs  alonjr  with  it  those  circumstances,  which  re- 
new  her  strength,  which  fertilize  her  fields  for  future 
harvests,  and  enable  her  from  time  to  time  to  ad- 
minister again  to  their  returnin^r  wants.  In  con- 
tmual  wmter,  therefore,  there  would  be  a  perpetual 
provision  for  supplies  of  fruitfulness,  without  any 
means  of  exerting  this  power,  and  without  any  use 
or  application  of  this  provision,  and  of  these  sup- 
plies; and  in  continual  summer,  a  perpetual  exer- 
tion, without  any  renovation  of  them,  a  constant 
waste,  without  any  sources  of  repair.  The  alter- 
nation, therefore,  of  these  seasons,  bespeaks  the 
goodness,  as  well  as  wisdom  of  the  Creator. 

This  goodness  and  wisdom  is  still  farther  illus- 
trated, in  the  gradual  return  of  summer  and  win- 
ter, through  the  intervening  seasons  of  the  autumn, 
and  the  spring ;  for,  passing  slowly  from  one  ex- 
treme to  the  other,  the  influence  of  each  is  more 
kindly   felt   by  the    fruits   and    productions   of  the 


324  On  the  Glory  of  God,   as  displayed 

earth,  and  the  two  extremes  take  place  without 
prejudice  ;  nay,  in  fact,  with  much  advantage,  to 
the  health  and  comfort  of  mankind. 

Here  again  we  have  another  instance  of  another 
class  of  blessings  derived  unto  mankind  from  the  va- 
rious changes,  and  the  ditferent  situations  of  that 
amazing  orb,  which  God  hath  lighted  up  in  the  hea- 
vens, *'  for  signs  and  for  seasons,  for  days  and  for 
years." 


PRAYER. 

Great  and  marvellous  are  thy  works,  O  Lord 
God  Almighty,  in  wisdom  hast  thou  made  them  all! 
Whither  shall  we  go  from  thy  spirit,  or  whither 
shall  we  flee  from  thy  presence  ?  If  we  ascend  up 
into  heaven  thou  art  there — if  we  take  the  wings  of 
the  morning,  and  dwell  in  the  uttermost  parts  of 
the  sea,  even  there  shall  thy  hand  lead  us,  and  thy 
rifjht  hand  shall  hold  us  ! 

O  Lord,  what  is  man,  that  tiiou  art  mindful  of 
him,  or  the  son  of  man,  that  thou  visitest  him — what 
have  we  wherewith  to  come  befoie  this  high  God, 
or  what  are  we,  that  we  should  take  upon  us  to  ad- 
dress so  great  and  glorious  a  Being ! 

We  owe  it  to  thy  guardian  care,  tliat  day  and 
night,  seed  time,  and  harvest,  fail  not. — These 
blessings  of  thy  providence  thou  scatterest  with  a 
liberal  hand  upon  all  thy  creatures — wherever  we 
turn  our  eyes,  we  behold  the  most  wonderful  dis- 
plays of  Almighty  power,  unerring  wisdom,  and 
never  failing  goodness  ;  and  every  moment  that  we 
contemplate    thy   gracious  appointments,  we   have 


by  the  Heavenly  Luminaries.  325 

new  and  convincing  evidence,  that  the  God  we  serve 
is  love. 

O  God,  ourunthankfulness  in  the  midst  of  so  many 
mercies  ;  our  unfruitfulness  in  the  midst  of  so 
many  privileges ;  our  transgressions  which  we  have 
multiplied  against  so  many  awful  obligations,  and 
against  so  much  endearing  tenderness,  fill  our 
hearts  with  the  most  painful  reflections  and  the 
most  distressing  apprehensions,  and  might  totally 
have  discouraged  our  hope  in  thee,  were  it  not  for 
the  gracious  assurance  in  the  gospel  of  Christ,  that 
with  thee  there  is  mercy,  and  that  with  our  God 
there  is  plenteous  redemption. 


31 


DISCOURSE     XXI. 


ON    THE    GLORY    OF     GOD,     AS    MANIFESTED     IN 
THE    HEAVENLY   LUMINARIES. 


PART  III. 


Psalm  six.  1. 

The  Hearens  declare  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  firmameot  showetb 
his  handy  work. 

In  the  preceding  Discourses  on  this  subject,  I  have 
endeavoured  to  point  out,  first,  how  strikingly  the 
glory  of  God  is  manifested  in  the  external  appear- 
ance of  the  heavens;  secondly,  in  the  magnitude  of 
the  heavenly  bodies,  and  the  rapidity  with  which 
they  move ;  thirdly,  in  the  constancy  and  harmony 
of  their  motions  ;  and,  fourthly,  in  their  important 
influence  on  our  welfare  and  our  happiness.  Here, 
our  first  attention  having  been  naturally  attracted  by 
that  glorious  luminary,  which  is  at  once  the  source 
of  our  light  and  heat,  I  would  now  suggest  a  few 
thoughts  on  the  benefits  derived  from  the  lunar  light. 
Passing  over  those  which  are  most  obvious,  and 
which  we  experience  when  obliged  to  prolong  our 
labours  beyond  the  decline  o(  day,  I  would  merely 
remark   its    extreme   importance    to  those,   whose 


On  the  Glory  of  God,  &c.  327 

night  continues  not  merely  for  a  few  hours,  but  who 
are  deprived  of  the  cheering  influence  of  the  sun, 
for  weeks  and  for  months.  In  these  dreary  regions 
of  our  globe,  not  indeed  very  populous,  yet  not  al- 
together destitute  of  inhabitants,  if  some  kind  pro- 
vision were  not  made  to  enlighten  them,  during  so 
long  an  interval,  it  is  easy  to  imagine  in  how  un- 
comfortable a  manner  both  themselves  and  their 
affairs  would  be  affected.  But  God  is  the  common 
father  of  mankind,  and  his  tender  mercies  are  over 
all  his  works.  The  motions  of  the  moon  therefore 
are  wonderfully  and  graciously  extended  beyond 
the  limits  of  the  sun's  course,  that  during  so  long 
an  absence  of  that  luminary,  she  may  administer 
some  light  and  comfort  to  these  dark  corners  of  the 
earth. 

In  illustration  of  the  same  benignity  and  care  of 
God,  it  may  also  be  observed  here,  that  many  other 
natural  circumstances  concur  to  render  this  situation 
more  tolerable  than  we  imagine  it;  so  that  although 
the  inhabitants  be  involved  in  a  much  longer  night, 
they  know  very  little  of  that  total  darkness  which  so 
frequently  characterizes  ours. 

It  is  to  the  moon  principally  that  we  are  indebt- 
ed for  those  constant  and  regular  agitations  of  the 
waters,  the  air,  and  of  every  other  fluid,  whether 
upon  the  surface  of  the  earth  or  above  it,  which 
preserves  them  from  stagnating,  and  prevents  pu- 
trefaction; the  inevitable  consequence  of  which 
would  be,  general  pestilence,  and  universal  desola- 
tion. There  are  tides  also  and  from  the  same  cause 
in  the  human  body,  as  well  as  in  the  terraqueous 
globe,  which  have  secret,  but  in  general  very  bene- 
ficial influences  upon  the  health,  the  comfort,  and 
even  upon  the  rational  faculties  of  man. 


328  On  the  Glory  of  God,  as  manifested 

Under  this  article,  I  will  merely  superadd  one 
observation  more;  namely,  that  the  division  of  our 
time  marked  out  to  us  by  the  moon,  is  attended  with 
much  convenience  to  the  affairs  of  men.  In  many 
instances,  the  period  of  a  year,  marked  out  by  the 
sun,  would  be  too  long,  especially  considering  the 
brevity  of  human  life  ;  whilst  on  the  contrary,  the 
period  of  a  night,  or  a  day,  or  of  both  united,  would 
in  many  other  instances  be  too  short. 

Of  all  the  other  worlds  and  fires  that  adorn  the 
firmament  of  heaven,  I  would  only  make  this  general 
remark,  that  although  they  are  at  too   great  a  dis- 
tance to  afford  much   light  or   warmth,   or  to   have 
any  direct  influences  on  the  earth  and  its  inhabitants, 
like  the  influences  of  the  sun  and   moon,  yet,   in   re- 
spect even  of  us,  they  are  not   merely  oinaments  to 
the  beautiful  canopy  which   the   hand  of  God   hath 
stretched  out  over  our   heads.     There  are,  in  some 
parts  of  our  globe,  mimense   plains,  without  road  or 
path,  or  any   marks  or  means   of  distinction  ;  some, 
uniformly   dreary,  and   some,   immeasurably  wide ; 
plains,  where  thousands  of  our  fellow  creatures  have 
no  other  guide  to  direct  them  in  their  migrations,  or 
in  their  visits  from  one  part  of  the  interminable  pros- 
pect to  another,  but   the    stars   of  heaven.     These 
celestial   luminaries  also,  are  a  faithful  guide   to  the 
industrious  mariner,   through   the   trackless  deserts 
of  the  ocean  ;  by  them  he  is  enabled  to  make  the 
haven  where  he  would  be,  and  to  return  in  safety  to 
his  far  distant  home,  instead   of  being  tost   without 
knowledge,  or  without  hope,  upon   the  mighty  wa- 
ters: and  it  is  by  means  of  this  intercourse,  that  the 
commercje  and  communion  of  mankind,  which  had 
otherwise  been  confined  to  contiguous   countries,  or 
along  adjacent  shores,  is  extended  from  one  end  of 
the  earth  unto  the  other.     By  means  of  this  inter- 


in  the  Heavenly  Luminaries.  329 

course  also  it  is,  that  great  improvements  are  deriv- 
ed to  the  whole  human  race :  that  the  hearts  and 
minds  of  men  are  opened  to  freer  thoughts,  and  more 
humane  sentiments  ;  that  their  ideas  of  the  great 
Creator  are  enlarged  and  ennobled  ;  that  the  policy 
of  governments,  may  be,  hereafter,  in  all  instances, 
and  has  been  already  in  many  instances,  made  bet- 
ter;  that  the  manners  of  mankind  have  been  refined 
and  softened  ;  and  if  some  few  vices  and  follies  have 
extended  their  infection,  yet  the  balance,  upon  the 
whole,  has  been  much  in  favour  of  human  happiness. 
The  influence  of  many  virtues  has  been  increased  ; 
true  religion,  even  the  knowledge  of  God,  and  of 
the  Son  of  God,  has  made  an  extensive  progress  ; 
and  since  the  way  is  now  opened,  our  expectations 
are  enlivened  and  our  hopes  confirmed,  that  the 
glorious  day  of  salvation  may  be  hastened,  when  all 
the  kingdoms  of  the  earth  shall  become  the  king- 
doms of  the  Lord,  and  of  his  Christ  ! 

Such  then  is  the  utility  of  the  heavenly  lumina- 
ries, and  of  their  various  revolutions,  such  their  con- 
nexions with  the  affairs  of  men,  and  their  beneficial 
influences  upon  them ;  so  loudly  do  they  proclaim 
the  glory  of  that  hand  by  which  they  were  formed, 
and  by  which  also  they  are  moved  and  supported 
with  such  inconceivable  energy !  They  are  as  useful 
as  they  are  magnificent,  and  form  together  one 
general  chorus  employed  continually  in  celebrating 
the  high  praises  of  our  God  ! 

Before  I  proceed  to  the  next  and  last  division  of 
this  discourse,  allow  me  to  enlarge  these  thoughts, 
and  to  extend  the  conclusion  that  may  be  drawn 
from  them  in  demonstration  of  the  divine  power  and 
goodness,  by  the  following  remarks. 


330  On  the  Glory  of  God,  as  manifested 

In  the  first  place,  all  that  has  been  said  concerning 
the  benefits  which  we  derive  from  the  sun,  the  revo- 
lutions and  the  changes  of  his  course,  is  equally  true 
concerning  many  other  worlds  to  which  he  gives 
both  light  and  heat,  and  which,  like  ours,  are  con- 
tinually moving  round  him. 

Secondly,  All  that  has  been  said  concerning  the 
benefits  we  derive  from  the  moon,  is  true  concerning 
our  earth,  in  respect  of  that  luminary,  which  is  to 
her,  and  her  inhabitants,  a  moon,  affording  still 
greater  light,  and  producing  similar,  but  much  more 
powerful  influences. 

Thirdly,  We  know  that  several  of  these  worlds, 
which  have  the  same  common  source  of  light  and 
heat  with  ourselves,  are,  like  our  world,  attended 
by  their  respective  moons,  which  of  consequence 
administer  unto  them  the  same  benefits  which  we 
receive  from  ours,  and  which  derive  from  the  planet 
they  attend,  the  same  advantages,  which  our  moon 
derives  from  the  world  which  we  inhabit. 

In  the  fourth  place,  From  every  world  throughout 
the  universe,  the  heavens  will  make  the  same  appear- 
ance to  its  inhabitants,  that  they  make  to  us  ;  and 
consequently  they  may  afford  tlie  same  benefits  to 
the  inhabitants  of  every  other  world,  that  they  do 
to  the  inhabitants  of  this. — Thus,  O  God,  wherever 
we  go,  do  thy  works  praise  thee;  in  all  worlds  do 
we  trace  the  footsteps  of  thy  wisdom,  thy  power,  and 
thv  goodness  ! 

Again,  the  skill  with  which  the  works  of  God  are 
combined  together;  the  harmonious  connexion  that 
is  established,  and  has  subsisted  for  ages,  unbroken 
and  undisturbed  among  all  the  various  parts  of  this 


in  the  Heavenly  Luminaries.  331 

immeasurable  system  ;  the  benefits  that  result  from 
these  connexions  and  dependencies,  in  innumerable 
instances  so  striking  and  so  extensive,  so  wonderful, 
liberal,  and  gracious ;  justify,  nay  demand  this  con- 
clusion, that  nothing  has  been  made  in  vain ;  that 
even,  where  we  cannot  see  the  utility  and  kind- 
ness of  the  works,  or  the  dispensations  of  the  Al- 
mighty, it  is  not  because  they  are  not  useful,  it 
is  not  because  they  are  not  kind,  but  because  we 
want  the  discernment,  the  penetration,  the  compre- 
hension of  mind,  or  some  other  necessary  assistances 
to  discover  their  real  character.  Could  we  see  with 
the  eye  of  truth ;  in  every  object  we  behold,  from 
the  dust  of  the  ground,  to  the  heavens  on  which  we 
gaze  with  wonder;  from  the  lowest  of  his  creatures, 
to  those  who  know  him  best,  and  love  him  most,  and 
bear  the  nearest  likeness  to  him  ;  we  should  see  it 
written  in  eternal  characters,  that  God  is  power, 
and  light,  and  love  ! 

In  the  ear  of  reason,  there  are  ten  thousand  salu- 
tations proceeding  from  ten  thousand  times  ten 
thousand  living  creatures,  congratulating  the  race 
of  men  that  they  live  under  the  government  of  so 
great,  so  kind,  and  so  good  a  master. — "  Rejoice 
then  in  the  Lord,  O  my  soul,  and  all  that  is  within 
me  praise  his  holy  name !" — Rejoice  with  trembling, 
O  ye  sons  of  men,  and  think  what  returns  ye  can 
render  unto  him  for  all  his  benefits  ! 

In  the  last  place,  I  would  just  add  another  obser- 
vation on  this  subject;  the  heavens  reveal  to  us  still 
more  of  the  glory  of  God,  if  we  consider  how  won- 
derfully and  how  kindly  their  influences  and  revo- 
lutions, are  adapted  to  the  frame,  and  to  the  wants 
of  man. 


332  On  the  Glory  of  God,  as  manifested 

Here  I  would  bj  no  means  be  understood  to  In- 
sinuate that  the  heavens  were  made  for  this  pur- 
pose only,  that  the  sun  was  created  for  no  other 
end  than  that  we  might  be  warmed  and  enhghten- 
ed  by  his  beams,  or  that  the  moon  was  created  for 
no  other  purpose,  than  to  cheer  the  darkness  of  our 
night;  or  the  stars,  with  no  other  view,  than  to 
entertain  the  eye  of  man  and  direct  him  in  his 
course. — The  whole  race  of  mortals,  all  that  have 
lived,  and  all  that  ever  will  live,  are,  in  the  uni- 
verse of  God,  as  a  (ew  grains  of  sand  to  the  sea 
shore ! — Let  us  not  conceive  that  these  glorious  lu- 
minaries have  not  far  wider  connexions,  and  more 
extensive  influences,  and  more  important  services. 
But,  if  amidst  these,  if  amidst  innumerable  other 
purposes  ;  if  amidst  innumerable  other  services,  im- 
measurable in  their  extent,  and  unspeakable  in 
their  importance,  the  race  of  mortals  has  not  been 
overlooked  or  forgotten  by  the  great  Lord  of  all ; 
if,  whilst  these  luminaries  are  accommodating  their 
situation  and  their  revolutions  to  so  many  nobler 
ends,  they  are  at  the  same  time  so  accommodated 
to  the  powers  and  the  wants  of  man,  as  if  created 
for  him  alone;  this  surely  is  a  striking  argument 
of  his  glory,  who,  whilst  he  attends  to  the  greatest 
objects,  overlooks  not  the  smallest ;  who  knows 
how  to  harmonize  the  interests  of  all,  so  that  there 
shall  be  no  discord  or  interference ;  and  whose 
paternal  care  and  tender  mercies  are  extended 
even  to  the  least  and  the  most  unworthy  of  his 
creatures  ! 

Of  this  observation  I  shall  produce  but  one  short 
instance,  which  will  be  sufficient  fully  to  justify  the 
remark,  and  may  lead  our  thoughts  to  many  similar 
reflections. 


in  the  Heavenly  Luminaries.  333 

It  is  obvious  to  observe,  tbat  great  as  is  the 
distance  between  this  earth,  and  the  source  of  its 
h'ght  and  heat,  it  is  not  too  great  for  the  faculties 
or  the  exigencies  of  its  inhabitants.  At  a  greater 
distance,  as  our  globe  is  now  constituted,  we  should 
have  had  but  a  little,  comfortless,  twilight  day;  the 
obscurity  and  coldness  of  which  would  have  es- 
sentially interfered  with  the  business,  security,  and 
health  of  man  :  we  should  have  had  but  a  faint, 
cheerless  summer,  too  weak  to  infuse  life  and 
gladness  either  into  the  animal  or  vegetable  crea- 
tion ;  and  if  not  wholly  insufficient  to  raise  the 
fruits  of  the  earth  into  vegetation,  at  least  not 
sufficient  to  prepare,  and  to  mature  them;  and  our 
nights  and  w^inter  would  have  been  exceedingly 
noxious  and  severe.  On  the  other  hand,  had  the 
distance  been  less,  though  the  winter  and  the  night 
might  have  been  in  some  degree  comfortable,  yet 
the  summer  and  the  day  would  have  burnt  with 
insupportable  heat,  and  have  blazed  with  unsuffera- 
ble  splendour. 

I  would  now  close  the  whole,  with  the  following 
short  practical  reflections. 

In  the  first  place  ;  We  may  learn  hence  by  what 
means  to  improve  our  knowledge  of  God  and  of 
his  glory;  viz.  by  a  pious  contemplation  of  his  crea- 
tion, and  a  serious  attention  to  his  providence. 
To  Christians,  the  word  of  God  is  a  sacred  rule 
of  duty;  and  his  word  commends  us  to  his  works, 
if  we  mean  to  grow  in  divine  knowledge.  The 
beautiful  and  sublime  imagery  of  the  ancient  pro- 
phets, prove  them  to  have  been  devout  observers 
of  the  wonders  of  creation  ;  and  indeed  there  can- 
not be  a  stronger  argument  of  insensibility  and 
indevotion,  than  to  live  without   God,  without  a   su- 

32 


334  On  the  Glory  of  God,  as  manij'esled 

prerae  reverence  of  his  glories ;  without  attention 
to  his  presence,  when  all  things  around,  above, 
within,  and  beneath  us,  testily  that  an  Almighty 
hand  created,  and  an  all-gracious  arm  perpetually 
supports  them  ! 

Continually  in  the  temple  of  the  Lord  shall  I 
be,  and  habitually  unmindful  of  the  divinity  that 
resides  there  ?  Shall  the  Psalmist  celebrate  the 
beauties  and  the  pleasures  of  a  little  local  temple 
built  by  human  ait,  the  fruit  of  man's  device,  and 
which  long  ago  has  perished  as  its  founder  perish- 
ed ;  shall  the  Psalmist  celebrate  a  little  local  earth- 
built  temple,  because  it  was  consecrated  unto  God, 
and  because  his  worship  was  performed  there,  and 
shall  our  souls  pay  no  regard,  lend  no  attention,  to 
that  infinite  and  eternal  temple,  whose  builder,  and 
whose  maker  is  God  ?  Look  up  to  the  innumerable 
worlds  that  revolve  around  us — with  what  nobler 
ideas,  and  sublimer  sentiments  ought  not  we  to 
adopt  the  language  of  the  king  of  Israel,  sa)ing 
unto  him  whose  transcendent  glory  they  manifest, 
"  O  how  amiable  are  thv  tal)ernacles,  O  Lord  of 
Hosts,  our  King  and  our  God  !" 

Nor  is  the  pious  contemplation  of  the  works  of 
God  recommended  only  by  the  example  of  the 
Psalmist:  Jesus,  the  author  and  finisher  of  our 
faith,  was  a  studious  observer,  as  well  as  a  zealous 
preacher  of  divine  providence,  and  a  devout  con- 
templator  of  his  Father's  works.  If  a  sparrow  fall 
to  the  ground,  it  is  not  without  his  heavenly  Father  ; 
if  the  fowls  of  the  air  are  feeding  in  his  sight,  they  are 
feeding  on  his  Father's  bounty  ;  if  the  lilies  of  the 
field  adorn  the  scene  that  is  belore  him,  it  is  the 
hand  of  God  that  clothed  them,  and  [jerfumed  them 
with  an  odour  and  a   splendour  which  no  eilorts  of 


in  the  Heavenly  Luminaries.  335 

human  art,  which    no    sumptuousness   of  imperial 
magnificence,  can  equal. 

A  more  rational  entertainment  no  man  can  devise; 
a  more  edifying  employment  no  man  can  conceive, 
than  the  serious  and  religious  study  of  the  works 
and  ways  of  God.  It  is  an  entertainment  that  may 
be  enjoyed  in  some  considerable  degree  by  the  low- 
est capacities,  if  there  be  but  the  ability  to  observe 
and  to  reflect.  It  is  an  employment  that  may  be 
made  consistent  with  every  other  occupation,  at  any 
hour,  and  in  any  scene. 

Again.  To  survey  every  living  object  we  behold, 
as  the  creature  of  him  who  made  ourselves,  and  the 
various  events  of  life  as  proceeding  from  the  decree 
of  God  ;  to  consider  them  in  this  light,  will  conse- 
crate the  most  trivial  occurrences  into  a  sacrifice  of 
praise ;  and  raise  those  pleasures,  which  had  other- 
wise been  no  more  than  mere  animal  sensations, 
or  mere  amusements  of  the  imagination,  into 
the  noblest,  the  most  edifying,  the  most  satisfac- 
tory, and  the  most  worthy,  of  which  humanity  is 
capable. 

The  Psalmist  spake  nothing  more  than  the  lan- 
guage of  nature  and  experience,  when  he  said ; 
"  that  the  works  of  the  Lord  are  great  to  all  those 
by  whom  they  are  sought  out ;  giving  pleasure." — 
The  devout  contemplation  of  them  exceedingly  ex- 
pands and  improves  the  mind ;  corrects  the  desire 
for  all  baser  pleasures;  and  while  it  renders  us  less 
vulnerable  to  the  temptations  of  this  present  state, 
we  are  thereby  fitted  and  prepared  for  the  more 
noble  employments,  and  spiritual  attainments  of  that 
which  is  to  come. — By  means  such  as  these,  the  in- 
terests of  piety  cannot  fail   to    be   promoted;  for 


336  On  the  Glory  of  God,  as  manifested 

what  heart,  accustomed  attentively  to  contemplate 
the  immensity  of  creation,  can  be  so  insensible,  as  not 
to  stand  in  awe  of  him  who  is  punctually  obeyed  by 
ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand  worlds;  and  to 
whom  the  universe,  and  every  being  in  it,  owes  Its 
existence,  and  who  has  every  heart  and  every  hand 
in  his  controul  ?  What  soul  is  there  so  obdurate,  as 
not  to  feel,  with  the  most  fervent  emotions  of  grati- 
tude and  love,  that  benevolence  of  God,  that  is  as 
wide  as  infinitude  itself,  and  as  stable  as  his  own 
eternity  ?  What  soul  is  there  so  fearful  and  so  dis- 
contented, as  not  to  resign  its  apprehensions  and 
solicitudes,  and  commit  itself  with  cheerful  confi- 
dence to  that  God,  who,  if  his  works  and  his  provi- 
dence may  be  trusted,  knows  all  the  wants  of  all  his 
subjects,  and  pities  the  distresses  even  of  the  mean- 
est creature  he  has  formed  ? 

What  is  there  that  can  dilate  our  hearts  into  pu- 
rer, or  more  fervent  sentiments  of  charity  and  love, 
than  to  ranore  through  the  boundless  ocean  of  our 
Creator's  mercies? — What  is  there  so  favourable 
to  the  sentiments  of  genuine  humility,  as  to  send 
out  our  thoughts  to  the  universe  of  God,  in  com- 
parison of  which,  the  world  we  inhabit  is  but  as 
a  particle  of  dust,  and  ourselves  as  an  atom  of  that 
dust. 

Lastly.  From  what  has  been  said  upon  this 
subject  we  may  form  a  probable  conjecture,  con- 
cerning a  part,  at  least,  of  our  employment,  in  a 
future  state  of  perfect  virtue  and  of  perlect  happi- 
ness. 

Here  we  see  little  of  the  works  of  God  ;  yet  the 
little  that  we  do  see  conveys  to  us  the  purest  and 
most  sublime  pleasure.     We  perceive  an  immensi» 


in  the  Heavenly  Luminaries.  337 

ty  behind,  undiscovered  and  unknown,  except  that 
such  an  immensity  exists. — What  more  probable, 
than  that  it  should  form  a  part  of  our  future  recom- 
pense and  happiness,  in  union  with  each  other,  to 
trace  the  Creator's  footsteps,  in  this  and  other 
worlds,  and  to  pursue  the  manifestations  of  his  glo- 
ries, through  immensity,  and  to  eternity,  without 
limit  and  without  end  ! 

A  nobler,  or  more  pleasurable  employment,  we 
can  hardly  desire  or  conceive — yet  a  nobler  and 
uiore  pleasurable  employment  we  have  reason  to 
hope  for,  and  expect ; — what  means  the  transporting 
promise  that  we  shall  then  see  God  ?  not  "  through 
a  glass  darkly ;"  not  only  by  reflection  in  the  mir- 
ror of  his  works,  but  immediately,  and  even  face 
to  face  ! — Blessed  state  !  Exlatick  expectation ! 
Who  would  lose  it !  Who,  my  friends,  would  not 
earnestly  "  press  toward  the  mark,  for  the  prize  of 
the  high  calling  of  God,  in  Christ  Jesus!" 


PRAYER. 

O  Lord  God  Almighty,  before  the  mountains 
were  brought  forth,  or  ever  thou  hadst  formed  the 
foundations  of  the  world,  from  everlasting  to  ever- 
lasting thou  art  God,  and  thy  dominion  is  from  ge- 
neration to  generation.  Thou  art  the  same,  yester- 
day, to-day,  and  for  ever  ! 

O  Lord,  when  we  consider  the  heavens,  the  work 
of  tiiy  fingers;  when  we  behold  the  spacious  firma- 
ment which  thou  hast  stretched  out  above  us;  when 
we  see  the  sun  which  thou  hast  appointed  to  rule 
the  day,  shining  in  his  strength;  or  the  moon 
which  thou  hast  directed  to  keep  watch   by  night. 


338  On  the  Glory  of  God^  &c. 

walking  in  her  brightness ;  when  we  attempt  to 
count  that  starry  host  with  which  the  heavens  are 
adorned;  our  hearts  are  overpowered  with  the  most 
lively  and  awful  conviction,  that  thou  art  great,  and 
thy  name  great,  and  that  the  understanding  of  our 
God  is  infinite  ! 

Raise  us,  we  beseech  thee,  to  that  happy  state 
of  mind,  and  keep  us  for  ever  in  it,  in  which  it  shall 
be  our  chief  delight  to  do  thy  will.  May  we  be  con- 
tinually aspiring  after  new  improvements  in  the 
Christian  character ;  may  we  never  think  that  we 
are  already  perfect ;  but  forgetting  the  things  that 
are  behind,  and  reaching  forward  to  those  that  are 
before,  may  we  press  forward  towards  the  mark,  for 
the  prize  of  the  high  calling  of  God,  in  Christ  Je- 
sus.— As  we  draw  nearer  unto  heaven,  may  w-e  be- 
come more  heavenly  minded,  more  like  those  pure 
and  holy  spirits  who  reside  there,  and  more  meet  to 
be  partakers  with  them,  in  their  employments  and 
their  happiness. 

Now  unto  the  King  eternal,  immortal,  invisible, 
God  only  wise,  be  glory  and  majesty,  dominion  and 
power,  both  now  and  ever.     Amen  ! 


I 


DISCOURSE     XXII. 

ON     THE    USE     AND     IMPROVEMENT     TO    BE    DE- 
RIVED   FROM    SEVERE    ILLNESS. 


John  xi.  4. 
This  sickness  is  not  unto  death,  but  for  the  glory  of  God.* 

It  is  the  duty  of  every  Christian  Minister,  for  it  is 
the  duty  of  every  man,  to  extract  whatever  good 
he  can  extract,  from  every  thing  that  befalls  either 
himself  or  others.  All  the  dispensations  of  Divine 
Providence  contain  in  them  the  wisest  instructions, 
and  may  be  made  productive  of  the  kindest  influences, 
to  promote  our  best  interests,  to  enhance  our  present 
consolations,  and  to  enrich  our  heavenly  inheritance. 
We  cannot  neglect  them,  but  to  our  injury  ;  who 
then  "  is  a  wise  man  among  you,"  let  him  show 
forth  his  wisdom  in  strenuous  exertion  to  derive 
from  every  afflictive  event,  the  important  counsel 
it  is  capable  of  suggesting,  and  to  profit  from  the 
wholesome  discipline  which  it  may  administer. 

You  all  know  the  occasion  that  first  led  ray 
thoughts  to  the  portion  of  Scripture  I  have  read  to 
you. — You  also,  "  are  in  the  body  ;"  perpetually 
exposed  to  sickness,  pain,  and  death  ;  and  it  was 

*  Composed  and  preached  on  recovery  from  a  nervous  fever,  in  the 
year  1783,  in  which  the  Author  had  been  confined  to  his  bed  several 
iveeks,  and  his  life  had  been  despaired  of  many  days. 


340  On  the  Use  and  Improvement  to 

my  desire  to  assist  you  in  the  just  improvement 
of  such  dangers  and  of  such  deliverances  as  1  had 
myself  experienced,  to  ihe  raehoration  of  your 
hearts,  and  therefore,  to  the  honour  of  your  Ma- 
ker. 

It  may  be,  that  you  have  had  experience  of  such 
situations,  and  if  so,  it  is  an  incumbent  duty,  tenderly 
to  cherish  the  remembrance,  both  of  the  affliction, 
and  of  the  salvation  ;  for  they  still  remain  with  you 
in  their  results,  as  talents  to  be  acknov^ledged,  oc- 
cupied, and  improved. — It  is  possible  that  you  have 
not  yet  experienced  such  situations  ;  but  it  is  by  no 
means  improbable,  that  hereafter  you  may  ;  and  in 
that  case,  beforehand  to  have  reflected  on  the  bene- 
fits to  be  derived  from  them,  and  the  improvements 
to  which  they  may  be  made  subservient,  will  enable 
you  to  derive  those  benefits  with  greater  certainty, 
and  in  more  abundance,  and  to  make  that  improve- 
ment with  greater  accuracy,  and  with  more  accep- 
tance and  success,  when  the  hour  of  trial  shall  come. 
— Such  previous  meditation,  upon  subjects  so  inter- 
esting, properly  pursued,  and  repeated  at  well-chosen 
intervals,  will  render  us  more  attentive  to  the  actual 
impressions  when  they  do  arrive  ;  more  able  to  ap- 
prehend and  feel  the  general  dictates  and  demands 
of  such  visitations,  and  more  cnpable  of  distinguish- 
ing those  influences  produced  by  them,  to  which  we 
ought  to  yield  our  hearts,  from  those,  which  it  equally 
behoves  us  to  resist. 

From  these  motives,  and  with  these  objects  in 
view,  my  thoughts  were  led  to  the  text  before  us; 
it  is  not  ray  intention  to  consider  it  as  connected 
with  the  history  of  Lazarus,  but  only  to  observe 
to  you ; 


be  derived  from  Severe  Illness.  341 

First,  How  those  sicknesses  which  are  not  unto 
death,  are  in  themselves,  and  of  necessitj,  to  the 
glory  of  God,  and 

Secondly,  How  the  real  Christian,  whilst  he  re- 
joices in  these  necessary  displays  of  divine  glory,  will 
exert  his  own  voluntary  endeavours  also,  that  both 
his  dangers,  and  his  deliverances,  may  redound  still 
further  to  the  glory  of  God. 

In  the  first  place ;  Those  sicknesses  that  ter- 
minate not  in  death,  are  of  necessity  to  the  glo- 
ry of  God.  1  mean  not  to  assert,  that  there  is 
any  thing  peculiar  in  them  to  the  exclusion  of  those 
sicknesses  which  do  terminate  in  death  :  for  every 
thing  is  to  the  glory  of  God;  sickness  as  well 
as  health  ;  pain,  as  well  as  pleasure  ;  death,  as  well 
as  life  ;  evil,  as  well  as  good;  all  are  to  his  glory. 
Throughout  the  whole  universe  of  God,  there  is  not 
a  being  that  exists,  nor  an  event  that  comes  to  pass, 
which  is  not  to  his  glory  ;  that  is  to  say,  there  is  not 
in  the  whole  universe,  a  being,  or  an  event,  which, 
to  a  mind  capable  of  comprehending  the  nature,  the 
causes,  and  the  purposes  of  its  existence,  together 
with  the  connexions,  the  influences,  and  the  results; 
which  does  not  strikingly  exhibit  the  perfections  of 
its  Author,  and  dispose  every  such  spectator,  to  all 
the  blessed  sentiments  and  genuine  expressions,  of 
veneration,  love,  and  joy. 

Placing  our  subject  in  this  light,  we  can  hardly 
fail  immediately  to  perceive  some  rays  of  the  divine 
glory  in  those  sicknesses  that  are  not  unto  death, 
and  it  will  not  be  difficult  so  to  direct  our  medita- 
tions, as  to  open  wider  views  of  the  divine  excellen- 
cies and  more  abundant  causes  of  devout  aii'ection 
in  these  visitations  of  God's  providence. 

33 


342  On  the  Use  and  Improvement  to 

Go  into  the  sick  man's  chamber,  you  will  find 
him,  it  may  be,  extended  on  his  bed  ;  not  in  soft 
and  gentle  slumbers,  the  restorers  of  exhausted 
nature,  but  tossing  to  and  fro,  in  painful  and  tumul- 
tuous vigils  ;  or  bound  down  in  unconquerable  death- 
like somnolency.  You  may  find  there,  perhaps, 
even  in  the  noon  of  life,  the  manly  vigour,  which, 
not  many  days  ago,  was  actively  and  ardently  en- 
gaged in  innocent,  honourable,  and  useful  occupa- 
tions, sunk  into  oppressive  languor,  or  dissolved, 
even  into  infant  weakness  ;  heaving  the  breath 
that  is  not  to  be  reached  ;  ineffectually  attempting 
even  the  easiest  exertions — the  springs  of  life,  which 
lately  flowed  with  such  force  and  freedom,  baffled 
in  their  course :  with  embarrassed,  interrupted,  la- 
borious, failing  efforts,  struggling  to  keep  up  the 
vital  current,  and  intimating,  that  they  cannot  do  it 
long !  You  might  find  there,  perhaps,  the  sensa- 
tions which  lately  were  so  acute  and  lively,  slow 
and  obscure,  and  nearly  extinct. — The  ideas  that 
were  lately  so  clear  and  vivid,  broken,  confused, 
and  blotted  out.  The  understanding,  that  lately 
was  employed  with  just  discernment  in  the  pur- 
suit of  truth,  or  in  the  business  of  the  world,  con- 
founded, deranged,  distracted;  one  while  overpow- 
ered by  vast,  and  dark,  and  awful  imaginations ; 
another  while,  dissipated  in  the  lightest,  wildest, 
and  most  extravagant  conceptions  ;  its  owner  know- 
ing nothing  of  the  scene  around  him,  unacquaint- 
ed with  his  best  friends,  and  a  stranger  in  his  own 
house  ! 

From  such  circumstances,  the  next  step  is 
usually  into  the  grave  :  yet  sights  like  these  are 
sometimes  seen  in  sicknesses  that  are  not  unto 
death.  Who  does  not  perceive  in  them  the  demon- 
strations of  that  awful  Power  that  can   stop  the 


be  derived  from  Severe  Illness.  343 

wheels  of  life  whenever  seeraeth  to  him  good  ;  that 
can  crush  the  firmest  fabrick;  that  can  blight  the 
fairest  prospects ;  that  can  darken  the  brightest 
day  ;  that  can  keep  us  living,  and,  in  any  degree  he 
pleases,  sensible  to  the  anguish  of  such  life  ;  in  the 
midst  of  dying  circumstances  that  can  pain  us  at 
every  avenue  of  our  bodies,  and  distress  us  in  every 
faculty  of  our  minds.  How  fearful  is  that  Power! 
how  necessary  is  its  friendship  !  how  forcibly  do 
such  scenes  inculcate  it  upon  us,  to  consider  our  de- 
pendence, and  to  own  it,  and  to  stand  in  awe  of 
God  ? 

But,  though  the  language  whiph  such  a  situa- 
tion addresses  to  the  ear  of  reason,  is  full  of- awful 
and  terrifick  images,  yet  it  is  not  terrour  only  that 
it  inspires.  When  we  cast  our  eye  into  scenes  of 
pain  and  sickness,  if  we  see  not  there  so  much  of 
the  goodness,  as  of  the  power  of  God,  yet  we  catch 
some  glimpses  of  the  divine  benignity :  for  it  can 
hardly  fail  to  meet  our  thoughts,  that  these  are  not 
the  ordinary  circumstances  of  mankind.  If  some- 
times, when  need  be,  we  are  for  a  season,  now  and 
then  in  heaviness,  yet  how  much  more  numerous  are 
our  days  of  health,  activity,  and  joy  ?  The  remem- 
brance of  these  happy  days  may  well  silence 
discontent,  and  enkindle  gratitude  on  the  bed  of 
pain  and  languishing  ;  and  even  there,  the  well  form- 
ed mind  can  derive  comfort  to  itself,  and  feel  its  joy 
in  God,  from  the  reflection,  that  at  all  times  the  sick 
are  comparatively  few ;  the  great  body  of  mankind, 
easy,  vigorous,  and  happy.  To  an  imagination  that 
is  at  all  at  liberty  to  contemplate  them,  scenes  of 
sickness  and  mortality  suggest  their  contraries,  vi- 
vacity and  health.  While  the  cloud  is  hanging  over 
you,  it  may  intercept,  from  the  spot  you  occupy, 
some  rays  of  the  divine   benignity,  and  may  cool 


344  On  the  Use  and  Improvement  to 

your  accustomed  triumph  in  the  government  of  God  : 
yet  even  then,  if  you  will  extend  your  vieu'  beyond 
your  chamber,  or  your  house,  you  will  see  all  around 
you,  a  wide  and  cheering  prospect ;  chequered  it 
may  be  with  here  and  there  a  cloud,  like  that  which 
is  passing  over  you,  but  for  the  most  part,  enlight- 
ened and  enlivened  with  the  brightest  splendours  of 
divine  liberality  and  goodness. 

Such  contemplations  even  sickness  can  suggest, 
to  alleviate  the  weight  with  which  it  presses  on  us, 
and  to  glorify  that  God,  to  whose  grace,  our  visitation, 
and  pain,  and  languor,  are  to  be  ascribed;  who  ap- 
prehends no  attainder  of  his  character  from  any 
thing  he  commands  or  does  ;  whose  own  language 
of  his  own  conduct  is,  "  I  form  the  light  and  create 
darkness ;  I  make  peace  and  create  evil ;  1  the  Lord 
do  all  these  things." 

In  this  manner,  and  in  many  other  respects  which 
it  were  easy  to  enumerate,  does  sickness,  whatever 
be  its  termination,  whether  death,  or  renewed  life, 
glorify  God  its  author.  And  if  affliction  glorifies 
him,  how  much  more,  deliverance  from  affliction  ?  If 
sickness  is  the  means  or  the  occasion  of  exhibiting 
unto  us  the  excellencies  of  his  nature  and  his  cha- 
racter; to  our  feeble  eyes  and  contracted  views, 
how  much  more  directly  and  more  manifestly  are 
they  displayed,  in  the  healing  of  our  diseases,  and 
the  renovation  of  our  frame. 

When,  in  the  example  of  a  friend,  we  contemplate 
the  progress  of  disease,  advancing  from  one  degree  of 
power  to  another,  till  at  length,  nature,  no  longer 
able  to  maintain  the  unequal  conflict,  sinks  down 
oppressed  and  overwhelmed  ;  our  heart-aches  grow 
with  the  growing  danger ;  till,  at  last,  perhaps,   our 


be  derived  from  Severe  Illness.  345 

faith  fails  us  :  While  we  speak  in  vain  to  the  ear 
that  hears  not,  or  the  understanding  that  apprehends 
not;  while  we  look  with  wishful  anguish  on  the 
pallid  countenance,  and  watch  with  anxious  solici- 
tude the  ebbing  breath  ;  it  seems,  as  if  there  were 
but  a  moment  to  the  fatal  termination.  While  in- 
deed, there  is  life,  there  is  hope  ;  but  in  a  state 
like  this,  we  dare  not  indulge  it. — ^y  what  unknown 
springs  should  that  oppressive  load  be  shook  off? 
hy  what  means  can  that  retiring  spirit  be  recalled? 
— What  a  journey  !  long,  insupportable,  impractica- 
ble ?  through  all  the  stages  that  led  to  this  awful 
scene,  what  a  journey  !  How  impossible  to  travel 
back  again,  to  the  height  from  which  he  is  fallen! — 
If,  notwithstanding  all  this  fear,  and  doubt,  and  un- 
belief, that  height  be  again  regained  ;  if  the  trans- 
formation actually  takes  place  to  which  our  hopes 
durst  not,  or,  perhaps,  could  not  extetjd  ;  if  the  dy- 
ing  friend  does  not  die ;  if,  returning  from  the  grave, 
where  he  was  going  down,  he  be  re-invested  in  his 
strength,  his  reason,  and  activity  ;  his  connexions, 
about  to  be  dissolved,  kindly  renewed,  and  those 
offices,  by  him  to  have  been  done  no  more,  resum- 
ed ;  in  reflecting  upon  such  events,  how  impossible 
is  it  for  the  thoughtful  mind  to  overlook  what  they 
exhibit  of  his  glory,  who  is  the  God  of  our  lives, 
the  length  of  our  days,  and  the  dispenser  of  all  our 
circumstances ! 

What  power  !  to  commission  the  ministers  of  death, 
to  bring  down  their  victim  to  the  very  edge  of  the 
grave,  and  in  the  moment  when  their  triumph  is 
about  to  be  complete,  to  controul  their  operations, 
and  reverse  them  !  What  skill !  to  lay  no  less,  and 
yet  to  lay  no  more  upon  a  feeble  mortal  than  what 
he  is  able  to  bear.  What  wisdom !  so  exactly  to  ac- 
commodate the  nature,  the  force,  the  extent,  the  con- 


346  On  the  Use  and  Improvement  to 

tinuance  of  disease,  to  the  power  of  sustaining,  resist- 
ing, and  surmounting  it,  as  that  it  shall  stop  short  of 
nothing  but  the  extinction  of  the  one  last  spark  of 
life,  and  shall  do  all  but  extinguish  it ! 

What  kindness  !  to  restore  to  endeared  connex- 
ions, to  enlivened  hopes,  to  improved  comforts,  to 
accustomed  services,  to  unfinished  projects,  to  new 
opportunities  and  increased  motives  of  cultivating 
the  affections  of  the  Christian  character,  of  adding 
to  the  treasures  we  have  laid  up  in  heaven,  and  of 
abounding  still  more  and  more,  in  all  good  works  ! 

To  whom  are  resurrections  such  as  these  to  be 
ascribed  ?  Whose  power,  whose  wisdom,  whose 
goodness,  do  thej  display  ?  Shall  we  impute  them 
to  that  self  rectifying  principle  which  shows  itself 
so  manifestly  in  every  part  of  nature,  and  not  least 
in  the  human  frame  ?  But  who  gave  to  this  exqui- 
site machine  that  self-rectifying  power,  and  who  is 
it  wards  off  that  fatal  period,  that  insurmount- 
able disorder,  which  this  principle  cannot  rectify  or 
survive  ?  Shall  they  then  be  imputed  to  the  anxious 
and  unwearied  care  of  affectionate  and  faithful 
friends  ?  Whose  gift  are  friends  ?  in  whose  hands 
are  their  breath  ?  By  whom  are  their  views  direct- 
ed, and  their  powers  supported?  Who  places  them 
upon  the  scene  in  which  we  need  their  help,  and  at 
the  time  in  which  we  need  it?  Shall  these  resur- 
rections be  ascribed  to  the  assiduity,  fidelity,  and 
skill  of  the  physician  ?  To  whom  does  he  owe  his 
faculties,  and  the  preservation  of  them  ?  From 
whose  storehouses  is  he  furnished  with  the  reme- 
dies that  he  applies  ?  By  whose  kind  disposals  is  it 
that  in  the  moment  of  critical  necessity  he  is  present 
to  apply  them,  in  number,  weight,  and  measure  ? 
God,  my  friends,  God  is  all  in  all ;  without  him  no- 


be  derived  from  Severe  Illness.  347 

thing  is.  '  Who,'  says  the  prophet,  '  who  is  he,  that 
sajeth  and  it  cometh  to  pass,  when  the  Lord  com- 
mandeth  it  not?'  All  other  agents  are  his  instru- 
ments, of  his  making,  and  of  his  employing. 

The  voluntary  instruments  of  his  mercy  are  un- 
doubtedly entitled  to  our  gratitude,  and  our  hearts 
are  unable  to  withhold  it.  While  from  just  and 
proper  principles  these  agents  accomplish  the  pur- 
poses of  divine  Providence,  they  manifest  their  own 
worth,  at  the  same  tiuje  that  they  contribute  to  the 
display  of  the  divine  excellencies.  But  surely,  what- 
ever wisdom,  power,  or  goodness,  the  works  of 
nature  or  the  events  of  life  exhibit,  .they  must  be 
properly  and  peculiarly  to  his  glory,  of  whom,  and 
through  whom,  and  to  whom,  are  all  things.  In 
tracing  the  causes  of  events,  how  can  our  reason  rest 
till  it  reach  him  who  is  the  Father  of  our  spirits,  and 
the  former  of  our  bodies,  and  the  conciliator  of  our 
friendships  ;  the  light  of  every  understanding,  and 
the  strength  of  every  arm  ? 

Let  us  see  God,  my  friends,  wherever  he  is ;  i.  e. 
in  every  atom  of  the  universe,  and  in  every  event  of 
life.  How  joyful  is  the  thought,  that  in  him  we  live, 
and  move,  and  have  our  being !  What  a  comfort  in 
the  prospect  of  long  continued  life  ;  what  a  source 
of  firmness  and  tranquillity  in  the  view  of  impend- 
ing death ! 

Wherever  he  reveals  his  glory,  whether  in  our  own 
circumstances,  or  in  those  of  others,  thither  let  our 
eyes  be  turned  ;  let  our  contemplations  dwell  upon 
the  scene,  till  we  have  imbibed  all  the  instructions  it 
unfolds,  and  conceived  all  the  salutary  sentiments  it 
is  capable  of  inspiring. 


348 


On  the  Use  and  Improvement  to 


If  pain  and  sickness  speak  to  us  of  the  awful  sove- 
reio^nty,  or  suggest  to  us  the  general  benignity  of 
God  ;  if  they  enliven  the  conviction  of  our  own  im- 
potence and  dependence,  with  that  of  his  patience 
and  his  power;  though  they  be  our  own  pains  and 
sicknesses,  or  theirs  who  are  dear  to  us  as  ourselves; 
while  they  are  present,  let  us  not  turn  away  from  the 
contemplation  of  them  ;  and  when  they  are  over,  let 
us  not  relax  oui-  exertions  to  retain  a  just  and  lively 
sense  of  the  salutary  impression. 

If  redemption  from  the  hand  of  the  grave  bespeaks 
the  power,  and  skill,  and  mercy,  of  its  author,  in 
such  events  let  us  accustom  ourselves  to  observe 
and  to  consider  the  striking  exhibition  of  divine 
grace  :  let  us  compare  the  renewed,  with  the  expir- 
ing man,  and  suffer  not  ourselves  to  neglect  such 
monuments  of  the  divine  glory,  even  though  it  were 
in  the  instance  of  a  stranger  or  an  enemy. 

The  sicknesses  which  do  terminate  in  death,  no 
less  than  those  from  which  we  recover,  no  doubt  are 
also  to  the  glory  of  God.  When  that  event  is  past, 
when  we  view  it  in  its  true  light,  and  from  the  pro- 
per point  of  view,  we  shall  see,  I  trust,  and  triumph 
in  the  conviction,  that  our  death  was  to  the  glory  of 
God. 

In  the  mean  time,  if,  through  the  disadvantages  of 
our  present  circumstances,  or  the  imperfection  of 
our  present  faculties,  we  see,  or  seem  to  see,  more 
of  God  in  the  light  of  life,  than  in  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death  ;  in  the  restoration  to  interrupted 
duties  and  enjoyments,  than  in  sable  funerals  and 
silent  graves;  hard  must  be  the  heart  which  has 
experienced  such  deliverances,  and  conceived  from 
them  no  devout  affection. 


be  derived  from  Severe  Illness.  349 

For  the  present,  to  conclude.  Let  us  keep  a 
serious  eye  upon  the  current  of  divine  Providence, 
and  upon  every  event  that  we  meet  with  or  befalls 
us,  let  us  inquire  what  it  has  to  say  o(  our  duty, 
or  of  God's  glory.  Let  fidelity,  gratitude,  and 
cheerful  confidence  in  God,  sanctify  our  charac- 
ter. Whether  he  wounds,  or  heals;  whether  he 
sends  us  to  the  grave,  or  calls  us  back  from  thence  ; 
let  us  say,  "  even  so  Father,  for  so  it  seemeth 
good  in  thy  sight." — When  the  hand  of  God  lies 
heavy  on  you,  still  remember  that  it  is  God's  hand  ; 
and  when  he  lifts  you  up  again,  let  your  songs 
ever  be  of  him,  and  your  prayer  unto  the  God  of 
your  lives  !* 


PRAYER. 

O  Thou,  who  killest  and  makest  alive  ;  who 
woundest,  and  who  healest,  accept  the  devout 
thanksgivinjjs  of  those  whom  thou  hast  recalled  from 
the  gates  of  death,  and  brought  back  this  day  into 
thine  house  to  serve  and  magnify  tliee,  their  preser- 
ver and  deliverer  ! 

It  was  thine  hand  that  humbled,  and  that  laid 
them  low;  and  it  was  the  same  Almighty  arm  that 

*  The  above  Sermon,  and  the  two  following,  unlike  the  others  con- 
tained in  this  volume,  not  being  suited  to  general  use.  the  Editor  could 
not.  in  like  manner,  add  a  prayer  for  general  use.  She  has  however, 
as  it  happened  to  be  inserted  at  the  end  of  the  Sermon,  subjoined 
that,  with  which  the  Author  closed  this  service,  apprehending  that 
there  are  minds,  to  whom  it  will  be  interesting;  and  she  has  also, 
with  like  views,  added  the  psalm  selected  by  him  on  the  same  occa- 
sion. It  was  not  usual  with  him  to  keep  a  diary,  but  the  date  is  here 
subjoined,  viz.  February  23,  1783,  to  which  is  added  the  following 
Memorandum.  "  The  first  time  of  preaching,  after  a  very  long  illness, 
from  the  midst  of  October,  perhaps  from  an  earlier  date,  but  laid  aside 
from  all  publick  service  from  the  middle  of  November  last.  Great 
comfort  and  much  delight  of  heart,  in  the  duties  of  this  day," 

34 


350 


On  the  Use  and  Improvement,  &c. 


rescued  them  from  the  impending  danger.  It  is 
having  obtained  help  from  God  that  they  continue 
hitherto,  and  of  his  great  mercy  that  they  are  so  far 
restored  to  the  full  enjoyment  of  reason,  of  health, 
and  of  strength  ! 

Go  on,  O  Lord,  if  it  be  thy  will,  to  perfect  that 
which  thou  hast  begun,  and  grant  that  while  their 
days  are  prolonged,  they  may  be  prolonged  in  use- 
fulness and  comfort. 

Thou,  O  God,  hast  all  hearts  in  thine  hands ; 
hear  their  earnest  supplications,  that  no  time  may 
impair  their  sense,  either  of  the  deliverance  or  of 
the  affliction.  May  both  have  their  proper  influ- 
ence upon  their  temper  and  demeanour  ;  may  they 
live  to  him  by  whom  they  live,  and  may  their  song 
ever  be  of  thee,  and  their  prayer  unto  the  God  of 
their  lives. 


THE   PSALM. 

In  life's  first  dawn,  my  tender  frame 

Was  thy  continual  care  ; 
Long  ere  I  could  pronounce  thy  name. 

Or  breathe  an  infant's  prayer. 

Tho'  reason  witli  niy  stature  grew, 

How  feeble  was  its  aid. 
How  little  of  my  God  1  knew. 

How  oft  from  thee  I  stray'd  ! 

Around  ray  path  what  dangers  rose, 
What  snares  through  all  the  road  ! 

What  could  have  sav'd  me  from  my  foes, 
But  an  all-powerful  God  ? 

Life  has  hung  trembling  on  a  breath, 

And  thine  unfailing  love 
Hath  snatch'd  me  from  the  stroke  of  death. 

And  bid  my  fears  remove. 

How  many  blessings,  to  thy  throne 

Have  rais'd  my  thankful  eye  ! 
How  many  pass'd  almost  unk'own. 

Or  unregarded,  by ! 


DISCOURSE     XXIII. 

ON    THE    USE     AND     Ix>IPROVEMENT     TO     BE    DE- 
RIVED   FROM    SEVERE    ILLNESS. 


PART   II. 


John  si.  4. 
Tliis  sickness  is  not  unto  death,  but  for  the  glory  of  God. 

You  have  already  seen,  in  the  first  place,  how  those, 
sicknesses  of  ours,  which  are  not  unto  death,  are 
in  themselves,  of  necessity  for  the  glory  of  God  j 
you  have  seen,  how  to  every  intelligent  observer, 
they  do  necessarily,  and  of  themselves  reveal  it.  We 
come  now, 

In  the  second  place,  to  observe,  how  the  good 
man,  while  he  rejoices  in  these  necessary  displays  of 
the  divine  glory,  will  exert  his  own  voluntary  en- 
deavours also,  that  his  dangers  as  well  as  deliveran- 
ces, may  redound  still  farther  to  the  glory  of  God. 

The  good  man  who  has  experienced  such  afflic- 
tions, and  such  deliverances,  will  not  be  satisfied 
with  what  the  events  themselves  unavoidably  exhibit 
of  his  makers  glory,  his  spirit  will  not  rest,  until  he 
has  been  the  active  and  voluntary  instrument  of  de- 
claring it ;    his  heart  will  prompt  him  upon  this,  as 


352  On  the  use  and  Improvement  to 

upon   every  just   occasion,  to  present  unto  God  the 
sacrifice  of  praise. 

God  is  glorified  by  the  cheerfulness  of  the  obe- 
dience wliich  his  servants  yield  to  him,  and  by  the 
fidelity  with  which  they  improve  his  talents.  The 
good  man  therefore,  as  in  every  scene  he  will  be 
studious  to  maintain  such  a  temper  and  demeanour 
as  shall  prove  that  he  thinks  well  of  the  dispensa- 
tions of  Providence ;  so,  in  his  reflections  upon  them, 
he  will  be  studious  to  extract,  to  lay  up  in  his  re- 
membrance and  to  inculcate  on  his  heart,  every  con- 
sideration afforded  by  them,  to  engage,  to  encour- 
age and  support  him  in  the  culture  of  all  good  af- 
fections, and  the  practice  of  all  good  works. 

The  christian  cannot  rise  from  the  bed  on  which 
he  lately  was  expiring,  but  his  heart  will  vent  itself 
in  unfeigned  praises  and  thanksgivings  unto  God. 
If  that  last  vital  spark  which  was  well  nigh  extin- 
guished, be  lighted  up  again  into  clear  and  just 
conceptions ;  can  such  a  transformation  pass  upon 
him,  and  his  heart  conceive  no  gratitude,  his  tongue 
keep  back  all  praise  ?  shocked  at  the  idea  of  the 
indecorum  and  the  baseness  of  such  an  omission,  the 
well  formed  mind  will  rejoice  in  God,  that  it  has 
not  thus  to  abhor  itself.  It  will  feel,  that  thanks 
and  praise  are  due  for  the  deliverance,  and  due 
for  the  affliction  too.  He  will  not  despise  the  chas- 
tening of  the  Lord  :  knowing  its  general  intention 
to  be  kind,  he  will  inquire  into  its  especial  meanino-. 
Persuaded,  that  it  is  only,  "  if  need  be,  that  he  is 
in  heaviness;"  that  "God  chasteneth  not  for  his 
pleasure,  but  for  our  profit,  that  we  may  be  made 
partakers  of  his  holiness,"  the  Christian  will  look 
back  with  satisfaction  on  the  trials  he  has  under- 
gone; and  duly  humbled  under  the   mighty  hand  of 


be  derived  from  Severe  Illness.  ii53 

God,  will  be  sincerely  thankful  that  he  has  not  been 
exempt  from  the  salutary  discipline  of  life.  If  "  in 
the  midst  of  judgment  God  hath  remembered  mer- 
cy, and  if  mercy  hath  rejoiced  against  judgment," 
his  gratitude  Avill  be  enkindled  into  intenser  ardour; 
his  joy  in  the  providence  of  God  will  be  more  live- 
ly ;  and  those  cords  of  divine  love,  which  unite  him 
to  that  infinitely  wise  and  tender  Parent,  will  be 
more  straitly  drawn,  and  more  firmly  bound  upon 
his  heart.  , 

It  is  good  for  a  living  man  to  know  what  dying 
is :  he  may  have  reason  to  rejoice  in  the  visita- 
tion that  set  him  within  sight  of  death,  within  feel- 
ing of  that  awful  situation,  as  long  as  he  shall 
live,  and  longer.  There  is  no  mystery  in  this  lan- 
guage; it  needs  no  illustration;  all  here  present,  I 
trust,  will  readily  understand,  and  assent  to  it;  and 
will  be  at  least  equally  ready  to  concede,  that  life 
is  good  ;  that  long  life  is  an  unspeakable  blessing, 
and  a  blessing  which  it  is  the  duty  of  every  man 
to  seek.  It  is  more  talents,  and  affords  more  im- 
provements; it  is  more  seed  time,  and  may  yield 
a  greater  harvest ;  it  is  more  discipline,  and  may 
lead  to  superiour  perfection.  The  good  man, 
though  he  will  cheerfully  consent  to  death,  when 
the  will  of  God  is  so,  may  yet  wisely  wish,  and 
prudently  endeavour,  to  live  as  long  as  life  can  be 
improved  by  him.  A  protracted  service,  ftuich  use- 
fulness, many  trials,  a  long  continued  education,  if 
they  demand  much,  do  however,  promise  much,  and 
may  conduct  to  a  more  honourable  and  distinguish- 
ed recompense.  Can  the  good  man's  heart  be  sen- 
sible of  this,  and  feel  no  grateful  exultations  in  re- 
turning life  ;  in  extended  prospects,  and  reviving 
liop.es  ?  It  cannot  be  ;  in  all  things  God  will  be 
glorified    by    him  ;  he    will    cling  to   him  when  he 


3j4  On  the  Use  and  Improvement  to 

wounds,    and    triumph    in    him,    when    he    heals. 
Again, 

In  respect  to  any  visitation  of  his  providence, 
God  is  not  duly  glorified,  to  the  extent  of  our  abili- 
ty or  of  our  duty,  merely  by  our  devout  acknowl- 
edgments: nor  will  the  good  man's  heart  be  sa- 
tisfied, until  he  has  applied  himself  to  the  religious 
and  moral  uses,  which  the  visitations  he  has  ex- 
perienced may  afford  to  the  glory  and  the  praise 
of  God. 

It  is  to  the  honour  of  the  King,  eternal  and  im- 
mortal, that  his  servants  should  occupy  his  talents, 
and  not  neglect  them  ;  that  the  subjects  of  his  moral 
government  should  concur  with,  and  not  counteract 
him  in  the  events  and  purposes  of  his  dispensations. 
Whilst  they  thereby  promote  their  own  excellence, 
they  "  show  forth  his  praise  ;"  and  wherever  there 
is  a  sincere  desire  "  that  God  may  be  glorified  in 
us;"  there  will  be,  in  that  mind,  a  just  attention  to 
his  providences,  and  a  serious  solicitude  that  his 
purposes  may  not  be  defeated,  but  accomplished 
fully,  and  in  their  whole  extent.  The  Christian 
therefore,  will  not  forget  the  sicknesses  that  issue 
not  in  death :  he  will  often  recollect  the  scenes 
through  which  he  passed  to  the  borders  of  the 
grave,  and  in  his  return  from  it ;  and  will  cherish 
in  his  remembrance  the  impressions  that  they 
made,  the  convictions  they  enforced,  and  the  senti- 
ments they  excited  ;  he  will  frequently  renew  the 
traces  they  have  left  upon  his  heart ;  that  whatever 
advantages  he  possessed  not  the  power  to  extract 
from  them,  while  they  were  present  with  him,  he 
may  be  enabled,  by  repeated  retrospects,  to  obtain, 
and  to  carry  with  him  through  the  whole  of  his 
f^uturc  life. 


be  derived  from  Severe  Illness.  355 

Let  me  be  permitted  to  illustrate  and  exem- 
plify this  conduct  in  a  few  plain  and  obvious  in- 
stances. 

Christian,  if  thou  hast  ever  been  within  sight 
of  death,  whence,  in  that  hour  of  trial,  didst  thou 
derive  thy  firmness  and  composure  ?  What  was  it 
that  enabled  thee  to  yield  thyself  with  tranquillity 
and  complacency  to  the  will  of  God  ?  It  was  thy 
conscience — thy  conscience  was  thy  stay.  And 
hast  thou  never  since  reflected  on  the  cordial  com- 
fort, which  in  that  hour  of  darkness  it  administered? 
Dost  thou  never  ask  thyself  what  could  then  have 
tempted  thee  to  part  with  it  ?  Once  more,  at  least, 
thou  wilt  liave  need  of  such*  a  fiiend — dost  thou 
never  impress  it  on  thy  heart,  not  to  part  with 
thine  integrity,  though  thou  shouldst  die  ?  Hast 
thou  never  charged  thyself  to  take  thy  good  con- 
science with  thee,  when  thou  shalt  next  go  into  the 
valley  of  affliction,  and  the  shades  of  death  ? — If 
not,  thou  hast  not  acted  according  to  thy  cha- 
racter, thy  profession,  thy  obligation,  or  thy  in- 
terest. 

Dost  thou  remember.  Christian,  with  what  com- 
passion, in  those  scenes  of  death,  thou  reflectedst 
on  their  case,  who  were  without  God,  and  with- 
out hope  there  ?  How  would  thy  heart  have  ached 
and  trembled,  if  thou  hadst  not  trusted  that  God 
would  walk  with  thee,  through  death's  dark  val- 
ley ? — In  what  light  did  the  divine  favour  then 
appear?  of  what  unutterable  moment! — of  what 
inestimable  value  ! — Dost  thou  remember,  what  a 
wretch  thou  hadst  been  without  it  ? — How  much 
was  it  endeared  to  thee  !  how  much  was  ihy 
sense  of  its  infinite  importance  quickened  and  en- 
larged ? 


3.06  On  the  Use  and  Improvement  to 

Christian,  hast  thou  never  seriously  retraced  these 
sentiments  and  convictions  ? — never  in  imagination 
measured  back  thy  steps  into  that  awful,  yet  edi- 
fying situation,  by  which  such  salutary  feelings 
were  thus  invigorated  and  magnified  ?  Dying,  in 
thine  own  conception,  were  thy  sentiments  so  just 
and  lively  ? — returned  again  to  lite,  is  thy  heart 
grown  cold  and  insensible  ?  Ave  things  eternal 
thus  depreciated  and  injured?  In  neglect  of  such 
cares  and  exercises  of  the  mind,  have  its  sentiments 
undergone  so  deplorable  a  revolution  ? — Surely,  if 
it  be  so,  this  is  not  grateful,  it  is  not  reasonable,  it 
is  not  christian,  it  is  not  wise.  God  has  a  claim 
upon  you  for  better  honour  ;  your  own  souls  have 
a  title  to  more  attention :  The  friends  who  love 
you  will  regret,  that  such  advantages  to  enliven, 
and  to  keep  for  ever  lively,  your  sense  of  the  divine 
favour,  should  be  lost  upon  you  :  and  if  they  are 
wise,  as  well  as  kind,  while  they  lament  your  folly, 
they  W'ill  tremble  for  your  safety.     Again, 

The  near  neighbourhood  of  death  is  a  station  in 
which  the  vanity  of  tliis  world  is  most  clearly  seen 
and  felt,  and  the  Christian,  whose  sincere  desire  it 
is  to  honour  God,  by  the  just  application  and  im- 
provement of  all  his  dispensations  to  him,  will  avail 
himself  of  the  soberer  ideas  of  that  hour,  to  cor- 
rect the  more  forcible  impressions,  the  gayer  sen- 
timents, and  the  inordinate  elations  which  we  are 
too  ready  to  admit  from  the  influences  of  this  world, 
when  it  stands  as  it  were,  nearer  to  us,  in  the  time 
of  our  health,  prosperity,  and  hope. 

Christian,  it  is  likely  that  you  have  sometimes 
had  reason  to  regret  the  force  with  which  things, 
seen  and  temporal,  struck  you,  and  to  lament  the 
faint  and  ineffectual  impression   of  things  invisible 


be  derived  from   Severe  Illness.  537 

and  eternal.  In  an  hour  of  serious  reflection,  you 
see  danger  to  your  good  conscience  and  your  good 
character,  and  perhaps  have  actually  suffered  de- 
triment from  your  inability,  or  your  inattention,  to 
keep  the  proper  balance  between  sense  and  faith. 
In  this  scene  of  discipline,  where  the  world,  and  the 
things  of  it  are  perpetually  pressing  on  our  senses, 
incessantly  soliciting  our  attention,  and  unavoida- 
bly occupying  our  care,  such  dangers  may  return 
again.  You  would  not  be  repeatedly  betrayed  by 
any  pleasures,  or  honours,  or  interests  of  this  world 
to  disgrace  your  Christian  character :  That,  you 
know,  would  neither  glorify  God,  nor  comfort 
you  You  would  be  provided,  as  well  as  may  be, 
against  all  seduction  and  surprise.  Send  back  your 
thoughts  then  to  the  hour  in  which  you  deemed 
yourselves  in  the  near  neighbourhood  of  death. 
Place  yourselves  in  the  same  scene  again,  and  take 
up  again  the  ideas  and  aifections  that  were  then 
stirring  in  your  hearts.  At  that  time,  were  your 
affections  to  the  world  very  warm  and  keen  ?  Did 
it  then  appear  to  you  of  such  vast  importance  ?  Did 
you  then  congratulate  yourselves  on  the  pleasures 
you  had  enjoyed,  on  the  honours  you  had  worn,  on 
the  acquisitions  you  had  made  ?  What  tiiought 
you  then  of  the  anxiety  and  eagerness  with  which 
the  things  of  this  world  are  pursued  ?  What  thought 
you  of  the  sacritices  that  are  so  often  made  for  the 
things  of  this  world?  What  thought  you  of  the 
differences  of  the  circumstances  of  mankind  ?  Did 
it  then  seem  to  you  of  any  mighty  moment  in  what 
rank  or  in  what  condition  the  human  traveller 
should  perform  a  journey,  so  rapid,  and  so  short  ? 
Wealth  and  poverty,  affliction  and  piosperity,  had 
lost  much  of  their  distinction  in  your  mind;  and 
from  the  station  which  you  then  occupied,  the  emi- 
nences and  the  vales  of  life  were  reduced  to  a  level 

.35 


338  On  the  Use  and  Improvement  to 

in  jour  view.  To  you  the  important  thing  was, 
that  "  in  simphcity  and  godly  sincerity,  not  with 
fleshly  wisdom,  but  by  the  grace  of  God,  you  had 
had  your  conversation  in  the  world." 

And,  when  in  the  secret  of  your  breast,  your 
heart  poured  out  its  warmest  wishes  for  those  you 
love,  tlie  thinos  of  this  world  were  too  lig^ht  to 
prompt  your  intercessions;  and  your  prayers  for 
them  were,  that  their  souls  might  be  in  liealth,  and 
prosper.  To  undervalue  this  world,  is  ingratitude  ; 
to  overvalue  it,  is  imprudence  ;  to  think  justly  of  it, 
is  truth,  and  it  is  duty  too.  In  this  respect  to 
honour  God,  to  judge  of  this  world  as  he  judges 
of  it,  and  to  feel  ourselves  affected  towards  it  as 
he  would  have  us  feel,  it  is  needful  that  we  some- 
times withdraw  ourselves  whither  its  aHuring  flat- 
teries will  not  follow  us  ;  where  the  illusion  of  a 
vain  imagination  will  not  impose  upon  us ;  where 
the  connexion  of  this  world  with  the  world  to  come, 
will  forcibly  break  in  upon  us,  and  will  cause  itself 
to  be  attended  to,  and  laid  to  heart.  It  is  in  that 
connexion  that  its  value  and  importance  lies;  and 
whatever  tends  to  give  justice  or  vivacity  to  our 
conceptions  of  that  connexion,  though  they  be 
scenes  of  sickness  and  of  death,  are  scenes  in  which 
our  thoughts  should  be  often  conversant.  To  place 
ourselves  in  imagination  there,  may  esseniially 
serve  us  :  to  have  occasion  of  observing  what  the 
dving  think  of  this  world,  is  an  advantap'e  for  the 
adjustment  of  our  affections  with  respect  to  it, 
greatly  to  be  wished  for;  but  to  have  had  the  su- 
periour  advantage  of  feeling  for  ourselves  the  im- 
pressions of  such  a  situation, — of  knowing  experi- 
mentally, how  the  world  appears  to  those  uho 
have  finished  their  career  in  it, — is,  in  this  view,  a 
■favour  of  divine   Providence  which  it    becomes  us 


be  derived  from  tievere  Illness.  359 

devoutly  to  acknowledge,  and  which  it  behoves  us 
faithfully  to  improve. 

Of  that  man  on  whom  the  Providence  of  God 
has  let  in  such  striking  views  of  the  vanity  of  this 
world  and  its  pursuits,  it  is  most  reasonably  expect- 
ed, that  he  should  possess  and  cultivate  the  spiri- 
tual mind  :  surely  his  affections  towards  the  world 
should  be  calm  and  temperate;  no  passion  which 
at  all  respects  it,  keen  or  ardent,  except  his  zeal 
to  improve  to  the  uttermost,  the  period  of  disci- 
pline and  education. — Thus  he  will  do  honour  to 
the  conviction  that  he  has  felt  of  the  vanity  of 
present  things;  and  when  he  stands  again  upon  the 
border  of  eternity,  he  will  look  behind  him,  with 
modest  satisfaction,  and  before  him,  with  humble 
hope.     Again, 

The  visitations  of  which  we  speak,  that  have 
brought  near  to  death,  and  have  not  terminated  in 
it,  will  be  applied  by  the  wise  and  good  man,  in 
his  reflections  on  the  feelino-s  of  such  times,  to  re- 
duce  the  over-weenings  of  self-esteem,  and  there- 
fore to  quicken  him  in  the  culture  of  the  Christian 
character,  and  to  animate  his  diligence  in  all  the 
business  of  life. 

There  is  no  scene  so  humblinsf  as  the  bed  of 
death.  In  that  solemn  light,  which  the  near  ap- 
proach of  judgment  and  eternity  sheds  around  us, 
infirmities  are  apt  to  look  like  iniquities;  in  that 
awful  hour  that  enlivens  the  desire,  and  takes  from 
him  for  ever  the  power,  to  repair  them,  there  is 
danger  that  the  good  man's  errours  and  failings 
should  rise  up  in  his  imagination  to  the  magnitude 
of  faults  and  crimes.  When  the  end  of  life  is  just 
upon   us,  it  is  natural,  it  is  scarcely  avoidable,  to 


369 


On  the  Use  and  Improvement  to 


compare  Its  attainments  with  its  length.  Short  must 
be  the  life,  or  great  the  attainments,  which  upon 
such  a  comparison,  at  such  an  hour,  shall  not  hold 
forth  to  the  comparer,  much  cause  of  humiliation  and 
regret  ;  opportunities  unobserved,  neglected,  or  de- 
clined.— Talents,  though  not  misapplied,  nor  hid,  nor 
unimproved;  yet  improved  but  I'eeblj,  coldly,  and 
remissly,  are  not  desirable  attendants  on  a  dying  bed  ; 
no  self-esteem  is  to  be  derived  from  them  ;  in  their 
aspect  there  is  nothing  pleasing;  there  is  nothing 
soothiniT,  nothins:  elevatins:  in  the  lancruaofe  which 
they  hold.  Dejection,  it  may  be  expected,  will  ac- 
company them,  and  it  is  well,  if  they  do  not  cast 
some  transient  and  uncomfortable  clouds,  on  "  ffood 
hope  through  grace." 

Ciiristlan,  thy  heart  Is  no  stranger  to  such  senti- 
ments; in  the  hour  of  devout  reflection,  how  often 
have  they  intruded  on  thy  repose!  Humility  is  of 
the  very  essence  of  thy  character,  and  when,  draw- 
ing nigh  unto  thy  Maker  in  acts  of  religious  contem- 
plation, or  of  pious  homage,  it  is  natural  that  self- 
abasement  should  spring  up  within  thy  heart — it 
may  even  be,  that  his  "dread  falleth  on  thee,"  and 
that  "  his  excellency,  maketh  thee  afraid  !" — Yet,  I 
may  appeal  to  you,  that  your  humiliations  were  ne- 
ver more  sincere,  your  self-esteem  never  lowlier,  the 
sense  of  your  imperfections  never  more  awakening, 
and  your  sense  of  the  divine  excellencies  more  over- 
powering, if  you  have  ever  been  there,  than  on  the 
bed  of  death. — With  what  affection  was  it  that  you 
then  looked  through  impending  death,  to  instant 
judgment,  and  an  opening  eternity?  It  was  not  ter- 
rour; — terrour  was  forbidden  by  divine  mercy;  it 
was  not  confidence,  for  confidence  was  repressed  by 
the  awful  presence  in  which  you  were  about  to  ap- 
pear : — conscious  of  your  own  littleness  and  unwor- 


be  derived  from  Severe  Illness.  361 

thiness,  did  you  cast  yourself  wholly  on  the  goodness 
and  mercy  of  God  ?  Sentiments  like  these  become  a 
creature  such  as  man  towards  infinite  perfection  and 
unspotted  hohness,  and  are  highly  favourable  to 
Christian  diligence  and  zeal ;  yet  who  that  has  ever 
felt  the  tender  anguish  intermixed  with  them,  would 
prepare  more  of  it  against  another  hour  of  serious 
self-communion,  or  of  approaching  death  ? — Who, 
that  on  the  bed  of  death,  has  compared  himself  with 
his  great  Exemplar;  his  own  conduct  with  the  law 
of  God;  his  temper,  with  God's  discipline,  and  his 
attainments,  with  his  privileges  ;  who,  that  fronj  such 
a  situation  has  ever  dwelt  upon  the  painful  retrospect 
of  his  own  miscarriages  and  imperfections,  can  ever 
more  think  highly  of  himself;  or  ever  more  want 
motives  in  the  future,  to  repair  the  past? 

Christians,  cherish  the  remembrance  of  every  scene 
and  of  every  event  which  may  have  reminded  you 
how  far  you  have  fallen  short  of  the  standard,  to 
which  your  duty,  your  honour,  your  interest,  and 
your  comfort  required  you  to  aspire. 

While  they  are  present  with  you,  yield  your  hearts 
to  the  penitential  sentiments  which  they  awaken,  for 
this  is  one  act  of  honour  unto  God  ;  but  forget  not, 
that  in  respect  of  such  visitations,  you  have  not  ren- 
dered to  him  all  the  glory  due  unto  his  name,  till  you 
have  pursued  the  dictates  and  demands  of  such  peni- 
tential sentiments,  into  the  faithful  correction,  and 
the  diligent  improvement  of  your  hearts  and  lives. 


DISCOURSE     XXIV. 

ON     THE    USE     AND     IMPROVEMENT    TO    BE    DE- 
RIVED   FROM    SEVERE    ILLNESS. 


PART    III. 


John  xi.  4. 
This  sickness  is  not  unto  death,  but  for  the  glory  of  God. 

You  have  already  seen  in  what  respect  and  in  what 
manner  the  sicknesses  whicli  are  not  unto  death,  are 
subservient  to  the  glorj  of  God. 

If  we  can  trust  either  the  judgment  of  our  own 
reason,  or  the  proofs  of  it  exhibited  in  the  gospel,  be- 
nignity and  kindness  are  the  highest  honours  of  the 
divine  character;  and  therefore,  to  study  the  resem- 
blance of  God  in  these  amiable  excellencies,  is  to 
glorify  the  Lord  our  Maker ;  and  it  is  manifest  to 
observe,  that  scenes  of  oppressive  sickness  and  of 
impending  death,  are  capable  of  yielding  much  as- 
sistance to  the  mind  disposed  to  avail  itself  of  the 
advantage,  to  enliven  and  invigorate  the  kind  affec- 
tions of  the  human  heart. 

Friendless  and  forlorn  beyond  the  common  lot 
of  men,  must  be  his,  to  whoui,  when  such  visita- 
tions have  deprived   him  of  all  self-assistance  and 


On  the  Use  and  Improvement,  &c.  363 

support,  they  aflford  not  great  occasion  for  much 
gratitude  to  others.  Ungenerous  and  contracted, 
not  yet  emancipated  from  the  debasing  influence  of 
selfish  and  envious  passions,  must  that  heart  be, 
which,  amidst  its  own  dangers  and  afflictions,  can 
find  no  congratulations  to  present  to  those  who  are 
secure  and  happy:  and  still  harder  and  more  un- 
impressible  the  spirit,  which,  whilst  it  feels  its 
own  absolute  need  of  pity  and  assistance,  has  no 
compassion  to  bestow  upon  its  brethren  in  afflic- 
tion. 

It  is  the  natural  tendency  of  such  situations  to 
invite  reflection,  to  lead  our  thoughts  to  those  who 
are  in  like  circumstances,  and  to  draw  out  our 
hearts  towards  them.  To  feel  the  anguish  of  afflic- 
tion, from  whatever  cause  it  may  arise,  naturally  en- 
livens and  magnifies  our  Ideas  of  the  contrary  situa- 
tion ;  and,  as  in  the  selfish  mind  It  may  give  an  in- 
decent ardour  and  importunity  to  Its  good  wishes 
for  it  own  deliverance  ;  in  the  heart  Avhere  liberality 
of  sentiment  prevails,  it  will  excite  a  livelier  sym- 
pathy with  those  who  possess  what  itself  has  lost, 
and  warmer  wishes  that  they  may  prize  such  bles- 
sings duly,  and  enjoy  ihem  long.  Acts  of  kindness 
are  never  felt  so  sensibly,  nor  received  so  grate- 
fully, as  when  they  are  indeed  wanted ;  they  are  sel- 
dom lost  when  they  are  bestowed  on  such  occasions 
and  in  such  circumstances.  \i  therefore,  sickness, 
pain,  and  danger,  have  a  tendency,  whilst  they  are 
present,  to  enliven  the  sentiments  of  gratitude,  con- 
gratulation, and  compassion,  we  may  be  aided  by 
the  serious  recollection  and  renewed  consideration 
of  such  scenes,  and  of  their  more  immediate  influ- 
ence, to  attain  to  permanent  and  progressive  im- 
provement, in  these  elements  and  components  of 
Christian  charity. 


364  On  the  Use  and  Improvement  to 

Do  jou  understand  this  doctrine  ?  1  see  no  reason 
to  apprehend  either  that  you  do  not  understand,  or 
thai  jou  doubt  it.  But  perhaps  you  may  conceive 
it  better,  and  be  more  confirmed  in  the  persuasion, 
that  in  this  respect  God  may  be  glorified  in  our  suf- 
ferings, if,  having  passed  through  such  scenes  of 
suffering  and  danger,  }ou  will  recollect  what  you 
thought  and  what  you  felt,  whilst  you  were  in 
them. 

Christian,  as  you  lay  upon  the  bed  of  pain,  and 
languishing,  did  it  never  come  into  your  heart  to 
bless  God,  did  it  never  once  alleviate  your  burdens, 
did  it  never  for  a  moment  suspend  your  attention  to 
them,  to  reflect,  what  myriads  of  the  family  of  God 
were,  at  that  time,  all  around  you,  rejoicing  in  his 
benignity  ?  With  your  supplications  for  the  restora- 
tion of  your  own  health  and  ease,  were  you  never 
prompted  to  join  your  intercessions  for  the  continu- 
ance of  theirs  ?  You  heard  perhaps,  or  if  you  heard 
not,  did  you  not  apprehend,  that  there  were  others 
circumstanced  like  you?  Did  you  shut  up  the  bow- 
els of  compassion  from  them  ?  did  their  afflictions 
never  reach  your  hearts  ?  did  you  never  wish  them, 
if  you  thought  they  wanted  them,  the  comforts  that 
attended  you  ?  did  you  take  no  interest  in  their 
visitations  ? — Your  heart's  desire  and  prayer  for  all 
men  was,  that  they  might  be  saved  :  tor  those  who 
were  in  health  and  prospered,  that  knowing  the 
vaiue  of  their  blessings,  and  remembering  that  they 
also,  as  well  as  their  afflicted  brethren,  "  were  in 
the  body,"  they  might  have  wisdom  to  improve 
their  blessings,  so  as  to  be  prepared  for  circum- 
stances such  as  yours,  through  whicli  they  must 
pass  at  length  ;  and  for  those,  over  wliom  the  sha- 
dows of  adversity  had  stretched  themselves,  that  in 
you   and  them,    "  patience  might  have   its  perfect 


he  derived  from  Severe  Illness.  365 

work,  that  ye  might  be  perfect  and  entire,  wanting 
nothing,"  and  that  in  this  world,  or  in  a  better,  ye 
might  come  out  of  ail  your  tribulations,  as  "gold 
out  of  the  fire." 

When  in  those  seasons  you  saw  the  solicitude  of 
your  friends;  the  assiduity,  peihaps,  of  a  pious  off- 
spring to  repay  your  care  of  them,  in  doing  for  you 
what  now  you  could  do  no  longer  for  yourself;  when 
you  observed  their  anxiety,  if  any  human  care  or 
intercession  could  avail  to  snatch  vou  from  the  im- 
pendnig  danger;  when  you  saw  them  sacrificing 
ease,  and  rest,  and  health,  to  administer  to  your 
deliverance  and  comfort,  holding  nothing  dear  to 
them,  that,  if  the  will  of  God  were  such,  they  might 
by  any  means  restore  you  and  retain  you ;  when 
you  saw  their  zealous  care  to  do  all  to  which  their 
power  extended,  and  their  heartfelt  anguish  as  to 
that  which  their  power  could  not  reach;  when,  in 
their  countenances  you  perceived  the  alternate 
marks  of  hope  and  apprehension,  of  comfort  and 
distress  ;  while  you  saw  all  this,  while  you  experi- 
enced the  benefits  and  the  consolations  of  iheir 
friendship,  were  your  hearts  so  hard,  that  such  pow- 
erful attachment  and  such  zealous  service  could 
draw  forth  from  you  no  more  than  the  ordinary  cur- 
rent of  affection  ?  No,  Christian,  surely  that  could 
not  be.  In  such  a  situation,  the  lightest  expressions 
of  sincere  friendshio  come  full  upon  the  heart  to  a 
warmer  welcome,  and  with  more  than  ordinary 
weight. 

When  we  are  about  to  lose  our  blessings,  it  is  then, 
perhaps,  that  we  first  see  them  in  their  true  impor- 
tance. It  is  the  same,  when  it  seems  to  us  that  we  are 
about  to  leave  them.  The  last  conversation,  the  last 
kind  offices,   the  last   mutual   interchange  of  tender 

.36 


366  On  the  Use  and  Improvement  to 

words  and  silent  looks;  that  last  scene,  my  friends,  will 
agitate  the  inmost  heart,  and  set  open  all  the  springs 
of  sympathy  and  benevolence.  While  that  last 
scene  is  di awing  nigh,  and  as  long  also  as  the  im- 
pression of  it  remains  in  memory,  every  thing  par- 
takes of  its  tender  influences.  While  the  heart  is 
thus  mollified  by  the  united  power  of  sharp  afflic- 
tion and  solemn  expectation,  every  kindness,  every 
condolence,  every  good  wish,  every,  even  the  light- 
est token  of  benevolent  attention,  sinks  deep  into  it. 
The  merit  of  our  friends  puts  on  an  unusual  amia- 
bleness,  and  every  thing  we  love  is  inexpressibly  en- 
deared to  us. 

Christians,  have  you  ever  felt  these  sentiments  .'*  If 
you  have,  you  cannot  willingly  abandon  them;  for 
as  surely  as  you  have  felt  them,  you  approve  them. 
You  would  have  loved  yourselves  the  better,  if  in 
all  time  past,  these  had  on  all  occasions  been  the 
abiding  sentiments  of  your  hearts.  The  man  who 
is  as  sensible  as  he  ought  to  be,  and  by  a  very  little 
measure  of  reflection  might  become,  of  the  impor- 
tant use  that  may  be  made  of  such  circumstances, 
and  of  their  influences  to  give  pleasantness,  accep- 
tableness,  and  accuracy  to  his  social  duties,  not 
only  within  the  more  contracted  circle  of  his  family 
and  friends,  but  also  in  the  wider  range  of  his  be- 
nevolent affections,  will  often  be  retracing  these 
circumstances,  and  their  influences,  in  his  mind  and 
heart,  that  he  may  avail  himself  of  them  in  the  ser- 
vices that  he  owes  to  ihe  universal  family  of  God, 
and  in  the  improvement  of  his  own  soul  to  a  resem- 
blance of  the  universal  parent.  In  such  cares  he 
will  be  the  more  assiduous,  if  he  will  permit  him- 
self to  think,  that  the  heart  which  has  once  been 
exposed  to  such  powerfully  humanizing  and  at- 
tendering  influences,  if  it  is  not  much  the  better, 
inyst  of  necessity  become  much  the  worse.      Again, 


be  derived  from  Severe  Illness.  367 

To  resign  ourselves  entirely  to  his  disposal,  is 
certainly  to  honour  God;  and  every  event  of  life 
which  we  apply  to  the  composing  of  our  minds  into 
resignation,  confidence,  and  complacency  in  the 
divine  government,  we  direct  to  the  honour  of  its 
Author.  Pain,  disease,  and  danger,  may  contri- 
bute to  form  in  us  this  happy  temper;  and  may 
be  rendeied  the  means  of  its  support  and  improve- 
ment. You  know  of  whom  it  is  said,  that  he 
"learnt  obedience  by  the  things  which  he  suffered." 
Of  whatever  diflferent  senses  these  words  are  capa- 
ble, none  is  more  natural  than  this — that  his  resig- 
nation unto  God,  and  his  confidence  in  him,  were 
promoted  and  magnified  by  the  severe  afflictions  he 
underwent.  Human  natuie  submijts  without  reluc- 
tance to  necessity;  and  those  necessary  trials  and 
afflictions  which  we  cannot  escape,  and  out  of  which 
we  cannot  help  ourselves,  are  the  instruments  of 
generating  and  nourishing  that  unreluctant  submis- 
sion. Much  indulgence  and  little  discipline  can 
hardly  fail  to  make  a  petulant  and  froward  child. 
High  health  and  great  prosperity  long  continued, 
with  but  few  or  slight  interruptions,  are  not  very 
favourable  to  that  self-annihilation  which  is  a  state 
of  mind  at  once  most  easy  and  most  comfortable 
to  its  owner,  and  a  tribute  of  homage  due  to  the 
wise  and  gracious  Parent  of  the  universe.  Light 
afflictions  are  not  so  friendly  to  the  growth  and  es- 
tablishment of  this  happy  temper,  as  severer  and 
more  oppressive  ones.  Against  the  former,  we 
seem  to  have  support  and  help  in  the  hope  of  over- 
coming them  ;  and  the  mind,  disposed  and  excited 
to  resist  and  strujyorle  with  them,  whatever  other 
benefit  it  may  derive  from  such  trials,  finds  little  aid 
in  them,  towards  perfecting  its  submission  to  the 
will  of  God. 


368  On  the  Use  and  Improvement  to 

Much  care,  perhaps,  and  ranch  exertion  too,  in 
such  circumstances,  may  be  required  to  keep  down 
a  repining,  fretful  spiiit,  and  to  preserve  any  to- 
lerable measure  of  satisfaction  in  the  government 
of  heaven.  It  is  in  the  great  calamities  of  life,  in 
which  we  cannot  help  ourselves,  and  in  which 
friendship  cannot  help  us,  the  pressure  and  the 
issues  of  which  are,  or  are  deemed  by  us  to  be, 
without  the  reach  of  human  power;  it  is  when  we 
feel  most  sensibly  the  conviction  of  our  own  impo- 
tence, and  the  vanity  of  all  other  confidences,  that 
we  feel  ourselves  most  perfectly  disposed,  and  per- 
haps most  completely  enabled,  to  subdue  our  own 
will,  and  to  cast  ourselves  entirely  on  the  good 
pleasure  of  our  Maker.  It  is  from  the  serious  re- 
collection, and  the  wise  application  of  experience 
such  as  this,  that  we  derive  the  most  efficacious  aids 
to  bring  our  own  will,  upon  all  occasions,  into  a 
complete  comcidencc  with  the  will  of  God,  and  to 
an  habitual  consent  to  all  he  does,  or  shall  do, 
with  us  or  ours. 

Recollect  the  feelings  of  your  hearts,  while  the 
ministers  of  death  were  making  and  renewing  their 
assaults  upon  the  friends  you  have  loved ;  and 
compare  them  with  the  feelings  of  your  heart,  when 
the  fatal  blow  was  struck,  and  the  irreparable  ca- 
tastrophe was  come  upon  you.  Your  first  state  of 
mind,  it  may  be,  was  anxiety,  tumult,  agitation, 
restlessness,  and  reluctance;  your  wishes,  it  may 
be,  savoured  much  of  reluctance  to  the  will  of 
God  ;  your  importunities  to  heaven,  it  may  be,  were 
neither  so  dutiful,  nor  so  reverent,  as  they  should 
have  been.  The  succeeding  state  of  mind,  per- 
haps, was  calm,  composed,  and  silent.  It  was 
God.  lou  acknowledged  his  right  to  do  what  he 
would  with  his  own.     You  knew  the  rod,  and  who 


be  derived  from  Severe  Illness.  369 

had  appointed  it.  The  burden  lay  heavy  on  your 
heart;  but  it  was  the  will  of  God,  and  your  heart 
disposed  itself  to  bear  it;  it  was  best  you  thought; 
though  you  did  not  see  this,  you  believed  it ;  You 
approved  the  growing  submissiveness  of  your  tem- 
per, and  found  yourselves  willing  to  renounce  all 
choice,  to  suppress  all  wishes  of  your  own,  and  to 
refer  yourselves,  and  all  your  circumstances,  to 
God;  to  wait  his  will,  and  to  cast  your  cares  on 
him.  When  similar  events  have  happened  to  your- 
selves, the  influence  of  them  has  perhaps  been  simi- 
lar; alarm,  dissatisfaction,  and  reluctance,  which, 
it  may  be,  accompanied  the  first  impressions  of 
affliction  and  of  danger,  while  as  yet  you  thought 
yourselves  within  help  and  hope;  sunk  at  last  into 
submission,  tranquillity,  and  acquiescence.  As  your 
experience  of  your  own  impotence,  and  the  in- 
efficacy  of  human  aids,  increased,  your  conviction 
of  your  dependence  upon  God  increased  with  it. 
You  found  yourself  entirely  in  his  hands  ;  you 
were  willing  to  think  well  of  your  condition  there  ; 
his  power,  which  can  neither  be  controlled  nor 
eluded,  showed  every  wish  of  that  kind  to  be  as 
weak,  as  it  was  vain  ;  and  as  you  could  not  pre- 
vail, so  neither  would  you  repine  against  him;  in 
better  hands  you  could  not  be :  it  is  God,  you 
said,  let  him  do  with  me  whatever  seemeth  to  him 
good. 

Such,  my  friends,  ought  to  be,  at  all  times,  the 
voluntary  and  settled  dispositions  of  your  minds. 
If  you  be  Christians,  any  more  than  by  profession, 
it  is  your  daily  study,  not  only  to  do  what  is  the 
will  of  God,  but  moreover  to  rejoice,  whatever  your 
circumstances  may  be,  that  they  are  what  he  has 
appointed.  You  are  at  all  times  in  his  hands; 
equally,  when  the  feeling  of  your  strength,  and  the 


ti70  On  the  Use  and  Improvement  to 

eflfectual  services  of  your  friends,  may  have  ren- 
dered you  less  attentive  to  that  dependence,  as  when 
the  total  faihire  of  these  blessings  may  have  im- 
pressed it  upon  your  hearts  vi^ith  the  deepest  sen- 
sibility, and  most  powerful  conviction.  If,  of  these 
different  situations,  the  one,  and  the  more  ordinary 
condition  of  mankind,  that  of  present  enjoyment,  be 
less  favourable  to  the  reverent  acknowledgment  of 
the  hand  of  God  in  the  disposition  of  our  circum- 
stances, the  wise  man  will  avail  himself  of  all  the 
experience  he  has  ever  had  of  this  other  situation, 
that  of  affliction  and  sorrow,  to  enable  him  to  think 
justly  of  divine  Providence  ;  to  be  contented  what- 
ever may  be  his  portion,  and  to  attain  that  state  of 
mind,  which  shall  finally  enable  him,  "  in  all  things 
to  give   thanks." 

Self-will  and  worldllness,  the  natural  offspring  of 
prosperity,  are  the  two  great  enemies  of  resigna- 
tion. To  have  had  this  self-will  controlled  and 
overpowered — to  have  been  sensibly  compelled  to 
foreofo  our  own  choice,  and  to  take  that  of  God — 
to  have  felt  expermaentally  the  vanity  of  these 
objects  after  which  worldliness  so  eagerly  aspires, 
is  of  great  efficacy  to  break  the  mind  to  habits  of 
relia'ious  submission.  And  if  these  circumstances 
have  not  been  so  tremendous  as  we  feared;  if  good 
hath  attended,  or  resulted  from  them,  their  ten- 
dency is  to  improve  the  submission  of  the  Christian 
into  something  more;  it  may,  and  of  right  it  ought 
to  be  exalted,  from  profound,  to  cheerful  and  com- 
placent resignation. 

Again,  let  me  just  add  once  more,  that  another 
instance,  in  which  the  good  man  will  be  studious  to 
direct  the  visitations  of  which  we  speak  to  the  ho- 
nour of  their  author,  is,  the  application  of  the  argu- 


be  derived  from  Severe  Illness.  571 

ments  they  suggest,  to  enhance  his  conceptions  of 
the  value  and  importance  of  gospel  promises;  and 
to  confirm  the  purpose  of  his  heart,  hy  the  faith- 
ful maintenance  of  the  Christian  character,  to  main- 
tain his  title  to  them. 

"This,"  saith  the  Apostle,  "is  the  promise  that 
he  hath  promised  us,  even  eternal  life."  Precious 
promise !  the  accomplishment  of  which  will  make 
us  like  unto  the  angels  of  God,  revealing  in  us  all 
the  glory  of  his  children  ;  and  the  hope  of  which, 
has  power  enough  to  set  our  hearts  at  ease  about 
all  the  accidents  of  this  life,  and  to  inspire  us  with 
tranquillity  and  comfort,  when  the  end  of  it  comes 
in  view.  How  gloomy  were  the  prospect,  and  how 
comfortless  the  approach  to  it,  if  in  death  there 
were  an  end  of  man  !  How  faint  and  ineffectual 
the  consolation,  if  the  hope  of  surviving  that  mys- 
terious revolution  of  our  being,  rested  solely  on 
the  comments  of  our  own  minds;  upon  some  ap- 
prehended intimations  that  we  observed  in  the 
Creator's  works  !  Hope,  from  such  a  source,  might 
have  entertained  us  in  the  calms  and  gleams  of  life, 
but  would  it  have  been  firm  enough  to  uphold  us 
amidst  its  storms  and  tempests  ? 

Christians,  when  you  made  near  approaches  to- 
wards the  house  appointed  for  all  the  living,  would 
your  composure,  would  your  fortitude  have  been 
what  it  was,  if  your  hope  had  stood,  not  upon  God's 
promises,  but  upon  your  own  arguments  ?  Without 
seriousness,  you  could  not  look  upon  death  ;  without 
terrour,  I  may  be  permitted  to  suppose,  you  did  look 
at  him.  Without  some  soft  regrets  you  could  not 
abandon  life;  yet,  with  full  consent  of  heart,  you 
were  ready  to  have  laid  it  down.  It  was  a  trying 
circumstance  ;  you  felt  all  the  difficulties  of  it ;  what 


372  On  the  Use  and  Improvement  to 

was  it  that  upheld  jou  under  ihem  ?  As  flesh  and 
heart  were  failing,  whence  was  it  you  derived  your 
steadiness  and  comfort?  From  reason  and  philoso- 
phy was  it  you  derived  them  ?  Alas,  when  you  were 
most  in  need  of  such  supports,  you  could  neither 
form  nor  recollect,  nor  understand  an  argument  upon 
the  subject ;  perhaps  the  principles  on  which  it  must 
have  rested,  were  in  that  pressing  hour,  beyond  your 
comprehension.  No,  Christian,  promise  and  exam- 
ple were  the  cordials  that  revived  you  :  the  precious 
promises  of  God  ;  the  glorious  exemplar  of  his 
Son.  This,  said  you,  is  the  promise  that  God  has 
promised  us,  even  eternal  life.  You  said,  and  your 
faith  failed  not,  "  because  Christ  lives,  you  should 
hve  also." 

Do  you  remember,  Christian,  how  precious,  in 
that  hour  of  darkness,  you  esteemed  these  thoughts, 
and  promises,  and  hopes  ?  Added  to  your  good 
conscience,  they  were  all  the  wealth  you  possess- 
ed, in  the  general  wreck  of  all  other  comforts, 
these  alone  remained  with  you,  and  with  these,  per- 
haps you  thought,  and  not  unjustly,  that  you  could 
submissively  and  decently  have  finished  your  course. 
Without  them,  I  am  persuaded  that  you  could  with 
no  tranquillity  have  contemplated  that  event.  What 
would  you  have  done,  in  that  helpless  hour,  if  your 
conscience  had  been  in  arms  against  you  .'^  Or  what, 
if  there  had  been  no  kind  promise  on  which  to  have 
reposed  your  souls  ?  If  your  heart  was  not  greatly 
moved,  it  was,  because  it  was  stayed  on  God;  keep 
it  so.  Remember  what  in  your  distress,  you  thought 
of  the  promises  of  God.  Remember,  that  into  like 
need  of  the  peace  they  speak  to  those  who  are  enti- 
tled to  them,  you  must  come  again.  The  ministers  of 
death,  when  they  shall  again  beset  you,  will  not  en- 
courage you  to  presume  on  promises,  from  the  terms 


be  derived  from  Severe  Illness.  373 

of  which  you  have  departed.  Abide  in  Christ. 
The  appointed  issue  of  this  preparatory  state,  no 
less  than  the  credit  of  its  progressive  periods,  and 
the  comfort  of  its  closing  scenes,  depends  upon 
your  patience,  perseverance,  and  fidehty. 

Continue  patient  in  well  doing.  Of  those  who 
have  been  within  the  near  prospect  of  death  and  of 
eternity,  it  may  well  be  expected,  that  when  next 
they  go  thither,  it  should  be  with  better  prepara- 
tion, and  with  more  abundant  comforts.  Of  those 
who  have  felt  the  urgent  need,  and  the  mighty  pow- 
er of  the  Christian  character,  and  of  thefdivine  pro- 
mises, amidst  such  scenes  of  oppressive  languor  and 
of  awful  expectation,  it  may  reasonably  be  presum- 
ed, that  they  will  be  diligent  to  keep  alive  these 
salutary  impressions,  and  faithful  to  pursue  them, 
through  all  their  genuine  consequences. — To  have 
had  such  experimental  knowledge,  and  such  deep 
conviction  of  things  so  unspeakably  interesting,  is 
a  privilege  that  may  be  turned  to  great  account  as 
a  powerful  means  of  further  improvement.  Such 
salutary  lessons  should  not  be  permitted  to  die  away 
out  of  our  minds.  Precious  promises!  given  us 
that  we  might  be  made  partakers  of  a  divine  na- 
ture ! — capable  of  shedding  the  sweetest  influences 
over  ail  the  vicissitudes  of  life,  and  capable,  even 
in  death,  of  administering  the  strongest  consola- 
tions ! 

Ought  privileges  like  these  to  be  forfeited  ? — 
Surely  the  man  who  hath  such  hopes  in  him, 
"  should  purify  himself,  even  as  he,  the  Lord,  is 
pure  ;"  he  should  keep  himself  "  unspotted  from 
the  world,"  and  should  "  perfect  holiness  in  the 
fear  of  God." 

37 


AFFENBIX. 


A    SERMON 


Preached  to  a  Society  of  Protestant  Dissenters,  in  the  City  of 
York.  By  the  Rev.  William  Wood,  on  Wednesday,  December 
31,  1800,  immediately  after  the  interment  of  the  Rev.  Newcome 
Cappe. 


Acts  x.  24. 
An  eloquent  man,  and  mighty  in  the  Scriptures. 

I  NEED  not  inform  this  assemblj,  that  no  common  man 
has  now  been  laid  in  the  grave.  The  general  appearance 
of  all  around  me  suflSciently  indicates,  that  the  serious 
event  which  has  brought  us  together  in  this  place,  at  this 
unusual  season,  is  felt  by  more  than  a  small  number  of 
relatives  and  friends.  It  is  (o  eminent  intellectual  talents, 
and  to  acknowledged  worth  of  publick  character,  that  the 
present  tribute  of  respect  is  paid.  When  a  good  man  is 
taken  from  private  life  and  a  confined  sphere  of  activity, 
he  will  be  long  and  deeply  lamented  by  his  forsaken  as- 
sociates ;  the  remembrance  of  his  virtues  will  be  long 
and  fondly  cherished  by  those  who  have  enjoyed  his 
affection :  but  the  attention  of  a  country,  or  of  a  large 
neighbourhood,  cannot  be  excited ;  the  regret  of  numbers 
cannot  be  expressed  for  the  loss  of  blessings  which  have 
been  known  only  to  few.  In  this  case  the  funeral  rites 
are  properly  simple  and  brief:  the  oflBcial  address  of 
the  Christian    minister   is    directed   solely   to  (he  living. 


376  Sermon  on  the  Interment  of 

and   has   little    or  no   concern   with  (he    character  of  the 
dead. 

But  excellence  of  a  rarer  kind,  energies  more  vigorous, 
and  usefulness  more  extensive,  should  not  be  suflfered  to 
slide  awaj  in  silence,  and  to  perish  in  oblivion.  The 
righteous  are  entitled  to  everlasting  remembrance :  not 
for  their  own  sake — praise  to  a  deaf  ear  is  dull  and  una- 
vailing :  the  lifeless  corpse  is  insensible  alike  to  applause 
and  to  disgrace — but  to  rouse  the  slumbering  virtue  of  the 
living,  to  animate  the  well-disposed  to  nobler  deeds,  to 
inspire  the  timid  with  greater  confidence  in  their  own 
strength,  and  to  point  out  to  all,  the  fair  paths  of  honour 
and  happiness. 

I  am  painfully  sensible  that  to  do  justice  to  an  object  so 
grand,  an  end  so  important,  and  an  aim  so  difficult,  abili- 
ties of  the  first  order  are  required.  And  I  should  shrink 
from  an  attempt,  in  which,  after  all,  I  engage  with  a  fal- 
tering tongue,  if  1  were  not  encouraged  to  hope,  that  the 
generous  pleasure  which  attends  the  survey  of  intellectual 
vigour  and  moral  eminence  will  take  entire  possession  of 
your  souls,  and  make  you  regardless  of  all  beside.  I  am 
still  farther  supported  by  the  assurance,  that  however 
feebly  the  description  may  be  given,  your  own  previous 
knowledge  will  approve  its  fidelity.  For  1  am  not,  on  this 
occasion,  compelled  to  frame  a  fictitious  tale  :  I  need  not 
employ  the  varnish  of  art  to  produce  a  delusive  image  by 
the  magick  of  splendid  colours.  I  am  only  to  follow  the 
simple  guidance  of  truth  and  nature. 

I  have,  moreover,  the  satisfaction  to  reflect,  that  J  shall 
not  be  embarrassed  by  the  untoward  union  of  opposite 
qualities.  I  am  not  to  celebrate  a  departed  warriour,  who 
made  his  way  to  success  and  glory  through  ruined  cities 
arid  ensanguined  fields  ;  I  am  not  to  reconcile  the  feelings 
of  patriot  virtue  with  the  groans  of  dying  heroes,  the  tears 
of  helpless  orphans,  and  the  cries  of  famished   peasants. 


the  Rev.  Newcome  Cappe.  377 

Nor  am  I  to  accompany  the  statesman  through  the  turns 
and  windings  of  his  way ;  and  to  undertake  the  humiliating 
task  of  endeavouring  to  palliate  dishonourable  means,  by 
displaying  the  important  ends  for  which  those  means  were 
employed. 

Nor  yet  have  I  to  ask  your  grateful  admiration  of  ta- 
lents and  studies,  which  had  for  their  object  nothing  more 
than  the  increased  comfort  or  luxurious  enjoyment  of  the 
present  life.  1  am  not  to  commemorate  the  inventions  of 
the  artist  who  has  abridged  the  toil  of  the  industrious  and 
made  large  additions  to  the  publick  wealth — or  the  ob- 
servations of  the  astronomer  who  has  given  greater  fa- 
cility to  the  commerce  of  distant  nations — or  the  inves- 
tigations of  the  chemiskt  who  has  followed  nature  into  her 
inmost  recesses,  has  compelled  her  to  assume  new  forms, 
and  has  extorted  from  her  the  knowledge  of  new  expe- 
dients for  the  readier  production  of  known  effects. 

I  appear  this  day  in  my  proper  character  as  a  minister 
of  religion.  I  am  to  bring  nothing  to  your  view  which  has 
not  a  near,  an  inseparable  connexion  with  your  everlasting 
interests  ;  I  am  to  claim  your  regard  for  the  advocate  of 
piety  and  virtue,  a  defender  of  sacred  truth,  a  preacher 
of  the  gospel  of  peace,  an  eloquent  man  jvho  ivas  mighty 
in  the  Scriptures. 

The  friend  whom  we  have  just  accompanied  to  the 
dark  and  narrow  house  appointed  for  all  livings  was  de- 
voted from  his  youth  to  the  service  of  the  sanctuary. 
Descended  from  a  father  who  had  long  sustained  the 
office  of  a  Christian  minister  with  reputation  and  success, 
in  a  neighbouring  opulent  commercial  town,  he  obtained 
his  profession  by  a  kind  of  inheritance.  But  with  him  it 
was  not  a  passive  succession  to  an  hereditary  employment. 
The  sphere  of  action  and  usefulness  desired  for  him  by 
parental  affection,  was  fully  approved  by  his  own  de- 
liberate choice.     He  joyfully  received  the  prophet's  man- 


378  Sermon  on  the  Interment  of 

tie  with  the  prophet's  goods.  And,  in  so  doing,  he  was 
not  actuated  by  views  of  aspiring  ambition  or  indulgent 
ease.  He  cast  behind  him  all  hopes  of  dignified  station, 
of  spiritual  authority,  of  political  influence,  and  of  ample 
revenue.  Placed  by  the  accident  of  birth  without  the 
pale  of  the  established  church,  he  sought  not  a  higher 
lot.  He  could  not  purchase  the  patronage  of  the  state  at 
what  he  deemed  the  expense  of  an  independent  mind. 
All  he  asked  was,  to  have  free  access  to  the  oracles  of 
God,  unfettered  by  human  creeds,  unrestrained  by  the 
chilling  dread  of  ecclesiastick  censures.  He  made  a  just 
distinction  between  the  sacred  rights  of  conscience,  and 
the  just  claims  of  the  civil  magistrate.  He  thought  it  his 
first  duty  to  render  unto  God  the  tjiings  that  are  God's  j 
his  next,  to  render  unto  Caesar  the  things  that  are  Caesar's. 
In  the  arrangement  of  his  religious  creed,  in  his  private 
and  oflicial  intercourse  with  the  Father  of  his  spirit,  he 
esteemed  himself  accountable  to  no  man  :  in  whatever  con- 
cerns the  publick  peace,  the  secular  rights  of  private  men, 
or  the  social  interests  of  the  present  life,  be  bowed  to  his 
country's  laws. 

But  though  he  declined  submission  to  human  power 
where  he  acknowledged  no  master  but  Christ,  and  no 
guide  but  the  written  word,  in  the  study  of  that  word  he 
disdained  not  the  assistance  of  human  science.  Sensible 
of  the  immense  extent  of  divine  truth  in  all  its  bearings 
and  all  its  dependencies,  convinced  that  the  office  of  a 
Christian  minister  should  not  be  lightly  and  hastily  assum- 
ed, he  eagerly  embraced  all  the  means  of  acquiring  ge- 
neral knowledge.  He  pursued  a  regular  course  of  acade- 
mick  studies  ;  he  drank  freely  of  the  invigorating,  cheering 
streams  of  ancient  wisdom  ;  he  entirely  neglected  no 
branch  of  those  inquiries  which  are  usually  stiled  profane. 
But  the  sacred  wisdom  of  revealed  religion  was  in  all  cases 
the  final  object  of  his  regard.     Whatever  he  studied,  and 


the  Rev.  Nervcome  Cappe.  379 

whatever  he  acquired,  he  applied  it  all  to  the  immediate 
design  of  his  profession ;  he  made  it  all  conducive  to  a 
critical  skill  In  the  Holy  Scriptures.  These  he  read  by- 
day  ;  on  these  he  thought  by  night.  Well  versed  in  the 
Greek  and  Roman  classick  writers,  he  derived  from  them 
frequent  assistance  in  explaining  the  New  Testament. 
But  tnough  he  gratefully  employed  them  as  useful  aux- 
iliaries, he  by  no  means  received  them  as  unerring  guides. 
He  did  not  look  for  attick  purity  or  attick  elegance  in  the 
barbarised  stile  of  Hellenistick  Jews.  He  well  knew  that 
the  language  in  which  the  Evangelists  and  Apostles  wrote, 
was  not  that  in  which  they  commonly  conversed  and 
thought.  He  was  convinced  that  their  narratives  and 
epistles  could  not  be  completely  understood  without  a 
constant  attention  to  Hebrew  idioms.  It  was,  therefore, 
in  his  estimation,  an  object  of  primary  importance,  to  ob- 
tain a  thorough  insight  into  the  original  language  and  most 
ancient  version  of  the  Jewish  Scriptures.  He  regarded 
the  peculiar  dialect  of  the  Greek  interpreters,  as,  in  most 
cases,  the  best  key  to  the  obscure  expressions  of  the  first 
dispensers  of  Gospel  doctrine.  With  these  aids  he  gen- 
erally suffered  the  inspired  authors  to  explain  their  own 
meaning.  He  entered  with  nice  exactness  info  the  dis- 
tinguishing manner  of  each  :  he  pursued  their  train  of 
thought :  he  compared  them  with  each  other  :  he  consi- 
dered the  circumstances  in  which  they  were  placed,  the 
opinions  which  they  had  previously  formed,  and  the  man- 
ner in  which  they  were  likely  to  be  influenced  by  the  pre- 
vailing sentiments  of  the  limes.  To  the  explanations  of 
learned  commentators  he  had  frequent  recourse  :  no  one 
ever  read  them  with  greater  care,  or  could  boast  a  more 
extensive  acquaintance  with  their  works.  But  his  chief 
dependence  was  on  bis  own  researches.  Whatever  he 
possessed  was  properly  his  own,  the  result  of  his  own 
patient  investigation,  the  dictate  of  his  own  cool  and  se- 
rious judgment. 


380  Sermon  on  the  Interment  of 

The  retired,  and,  in  a  great  degree,  uncommunicated 
studies  of  many  a  laborious  year,  at  length  gave  bim  nearly 
the  same  views  of  the  New  Testament,  as,  in  ditiferent  con- 
nexions, and  under  different  influences,  have  been  gradual- 
ly opened  to  the  world  by  the  writings  of  a  Lindsey,  a 
Jebb,  a  Priestley,  and  other  divines  who,  for  some  time, 
have  been  generally  known  by  the  name  of  Unitarian 
Christians.  But  though  in  the  general  issue  he  nearly 
agreed  with  those  eminent  inquirers  into  Scripture  doc- 
trine, his  whole  train  of  thought  had  an  original  cast,  and 
in  some  respects  a  speciSck  diflference  from  that  of  every 
other  Christian  believer.  This  was  the  natural,  the  una- 
voidable effect  of  an  examination  trul)'  free,  conducted  on 
enlarged  principles,  and  satisfied  with  nothing  short  of  what 
appeared  to  himself  decisive  evidence. 

Nor  let  it  be  supposed  that  these  different  deductions 
from  the  same  Scriptures  are  a  valid  objection  to  the 
divine  authority  of  the  Scriptures  themselves,  or  any  dis- 
paragement of  their  worth  and  usefulness.  Let  it  not  be 
pleaded,  on  the  one  hand,  that  on  this  account  there  is 
need  of  an  infallible  expounder;  or  insinuated,  on  the 
other,  that,  by  making  this  concession,  we  favour  the 
doubts  of  the  scepfick,  or  afford  occasion  of  triumph  to 
the  infidel.  I  appeal  to  the  testimony  of  incontestable  fact 
in  support  of  the  assertion,  that  some  of  the  firmest, 
warmest,  and  most  active  advocates  of  the  Christian  faith 
have  been  found  in  the  number  of  those,  who  have  been 
most  strenuous  in  their  claim  fo  the  right  of  private  judg- 
ment, and  have  exercised  that  right  with  the  greatest  free- 
dom and  boldness. 

No  one  had  a  stronger  conviction  of  the  divine  authori- 
ty of  Moses  and  of  Christ,  than  our  departed  friend.  The 
more  deeply  he  studied  the  sacred  Scriptures,  the  more 
clearly  he  understood,  or  thought  he  understood,  the 
writings  of  the  prophets  and  apostles,  the  more  distincliy 


the  Rev.  Newcome  Cappe.  381 

did  he  perceive,  the  more  sfeadilj  did  he  acknowledge 
the  consistence  and  beauty  of  the  two  connected  systems. 
When  he  differed  from  others,  he  did  not  wonder  at  the 
difference.  He  was  no  more  surprised  to  discover  that 
those,  whose  talents  he  respected  and  whose  esteem  he 
valued,  did  not  concur  with  him  in  all  his  sentiments,  than 
to  find  that  they  were  not  of  his  own  height,  of  his  own 
colour,  and  of  his  own  form.  Instead  of  lamenting  it  as  a 
misfortune  that  the  same  integrity,  similar  diligence,  and 
equal  mental  discernment  do  not  always  lead  to  exactly  the 
same  point,  he  admired  in  it  the  wise  appointment  of  in- 
finite goodness.  He  knew  that  where  all  is  easy,  and 
where  all  men  agree,  there  is  little  inducement  to  close 
and  continued  observation.  He  was  aware  that  the  mind 
calls  not  forth  its  whole  strength  till  difficulties  are  to  be 
solved,  discordant  opinions  are  to  be  compared,  and  a 
preference  to  one  or  the  other  is  to  be  given.  He  was 
convinced  that  the  influence  of  divine  truth  on  the  heart 
and  life  entirely  depends  upon  the  attention  which  it  ex- 
cites, and  the  ardour  with  which  it  is  pursued.  He  there- 
fore rejoiced  in  that  variety  of  sentiment  which  keeps 
curiosity  alive,  creates  an  interest  in  the  search  after 
truth,  and  by  making  it  the  object  of  repeated  inquiry, 
gives  it  free  access  to  the  active  powers,  and  produces 
religious  obedience. 

For  to  this  important,  this  one  essential  purpose,  all 
his  own  studies  were  uniformly  applied.  In  whatever  va- 
rying light  the  circumstantial  particulars  and  incidental 
doctrines  of  divine  revelation  appeared  to  his  growing 
mind,  he  discerned  and  reverenced,  as  the  ground  work 
of  the  whole,  a  fixed  and  efficacious  principle  of  inward 
godliness.  Whatever  occasion  he  found  to  correct,  or  to 
improve  his  former  decisions,  here  he  experienced  no 
doubt,  here  he  was  never  compelled  to  retract  or  to  qua- 
lify.     Whatever    excursions    he  took  in    the    regions  of 

.38 


382  Sermon  on  the  Interment  of 

speculative  inquiry,  whatever  he  learnt  from  Moses  and 
the  prophets,  from  Christ  and  his  apostles,  to  this  con- 
clusion he  was  invariably  led  :  "  Fear  God  and  keep  his 
cominandmenls  ;  for  this  is  all  that  is  truly  interesting  to 
man  ;  Finally,  brethren,  whatsoever  things  are  true,  what- 
soever things  are  honourable,  whatsoever  things  are  just, 
whatsoever  things  are  pure,  whatsoever  things  are  lovely, 
whatsoever  thing  are  of  good  report ;  if  there  be  any  vir- 
tue, if  there  be  any  praise,  think  on  these  things,  and  the 
God  of  peace  shall  be  with  you.  Giving  ail  diligence,  add 
to  your  faith,  virtue  ;  and  to  virtue,  knowledge  ;  and  to 
knowledge,  temperance ;  and  to  temperance,  patience ; 
and  to  patience,  godliness  ;  and  to  godliness,  brotherly 
kindness ;  and  to  brotherly  kindness,  charity.  For  if 
these  things  be  in  you  and  abound,  they  make  you  to 
be  neither  barren  nor  unfruitful  in  the  knowledge  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ.  But  he  that  lacketh  these  things 
is  blind  and  cannot  see  far  off,  and  hath  forgotten  that  he 
was  purged  from  his  old  sins.  Wherefore,  the  rather, 
brethren,  give  diligence  to  make  your  calling  and  elec- 
tion sure ;  for  if  ye  do  these  things  ye  shall  never  fall ; 
for  so  an  entrance  shall  be  administered  to  you  abundantly 
into  the  everlasting  kingdom  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Je- 
sus Christ." 

Deeply  impressed  with  a  conviction  of  this  solemn 
truth,  he  had  no  ambition  to  acquire  a  critical  skill  in  the 
language  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  but  in  strict  connexion 
with  its  evident  subservience  to  the  forming  of  a  pious 
and  virtuous  character.  As  he  wished  rather  to  be,  than 
to  appear,  a  good  scholar  ;  so  he  set  more  value  on  the  in- 
ward temper  of  a  devout  mind,  and  the  silent  aspiration 
of  a  grateful  heart,  than  on  all  the  brilliance  of  that  ac- 
tive spirit  which  rushes  into  busy  life,  solicits  general 
notice,  and  extorts  the  applause  of  an  admiring  world. 
Indeed  he  was  so  fur  from  a  forward  and  ostentatious  dis- 
play of  his  own  powers  and  of  his  own  attainments,  that, 


f  the  Rev,  Nervcome  Cappe.  383 

as  those  who  knew  hira  best  will  readily  allow,  he  car- 
ried an  aversion  to  publick  life,  and  a  love  of  studious 
retirement,  lo  a  somewhat  blameable  excess.  With  natu- 
ral and  acquired  capacities  for  extensive  usefulness,  in  the 
course  of  five-and-forty  years  he  was  seldom  absent  from 
this  city.  With  eminent  talents  for  popular  eloquence ; 
with  a  rich  fund  of  moral  and  religious  knowledge,  with 
a  rare  combination  of  mental  qualities,  a  sound  under- 
standing, a  vigorous  fancy,  and  quick  sympathetick  feel- 
ing ;  with  a  copious  flow  of  strong,  and  often  beautiful 
expression;  with  a  style  of  composition  exactly,  1  may, 
perhaps  add,  exclusively,  suited  to  his  own  impressive 
delivery  ;  with  a  dignity  of  person  and  deportment  which 
insured  the  attention  of  all  who  heard  him,  he  seldom 
spake  as  a  Christian  minister  but  from  this  pulpit.  Hap- 
py in  a  growing  acquaintance  with  sacred  truth,  in  the  en- 
joyments of  the  family  hearth,  in  the  instructive  converse 
of  a  few  learned  associates,  and  the  esteem  of  a  small 
Christian  congregation,  he  had  no  ambition  to  6x  the  eyes 
of  listening  crowds,  or  to  obtain  the  meed  of  extensive 
fame.  If  he  had  not  been  called  to  a  pastoral  charge  in 
this  ancient  metropolis  of  the  north,  (his  fixed  abode,  or 
winter  residence,  of  many  a  cultivated  mind,  this  periodi- 
cal resort  of  numerous  attendants  on  judicial  law ;  and  if 
he  had  not  been  introduced  to  the  knowledge  of  the  latter 
highly  respectable  body  of  men,  by  the  faithful  friend  of 
his  youth,  who  long  stood  at  the  head  of  the  bar  in  this 
circuit,*  he  might  have  passed  through  life  little  noticed 
and  little  known. 

But  though  he  confined  his  ministerial  labours  to  the 
benefit  of  a  few,  he  gave  to  that  few  all  the  respect  which 
applauding  multitudes  could  ever  have  required.  His 
sermons  were  not  the  incoherent  effusions  of  careless 
haste,  or  the  cold  harangues  of  formal  duty.     Whatever 

*  The  late  Jotin  Lee,  Esq.  his  Majesty's  Attorney  General  in   the 
year  1783. 


384  Sermon  on  the  Interment  of 

he  performed  he  made  conscience  of  endeavouring  to  per- 
form well.  His  explanations  of  Holy  Writ  were  address- 
ed alike  to  the  understanding  and  the  aflfections.  What- 
ever were  the  subjects  he  discussed,  he  drew  liberally 
from  his  ample  stores,  and  out  of  his  treasures  brought 
forth  to  his  people  things  new  and  old.  His  devotional 
services  were  scriptural,  animated,  and  affecting.  His 
piety  was,  as  it  always  should  be,  the  combined  opera- 
tion of  principle  and  feeling,  a  deliberate  dictate  of  the 
judirment  and  a  warm  emotion  of  the  heart.  A  firm  reli- 
ance on  the  divine  perfections,  a  fixed  resignation  to  the 
divine  will,  and  a  steady  persuasion  that  all  the  ways  of 
God  are  just  and  good,  formed,  indeed,  the  characteris- 
(ick  features  of  his  mind,  appeared  in  all  his  works,  and 
gave  a  just  direction  to  the  general  course  of  his  actions. 
Of  this  he  has  left  a  pleasing  proof  in  those  interesting 
Discourses  on  the  Providence  and  Government  of  God,  of 
which  the  publick  are  now  possessed,  and  which  are  faith- 
ful copies  from  the  tablet  of  his  heart. 

This  was  put  especially  to  the  test  in  the  latter  part  of 
his  life,  when  a  melancholy  stroke  stopped  the  progress  of 
his  publick  labours,  nearly  closed  his  private  studies,  and 
greatly  impaired  his  active  faculties.  But  though  cut  off 
from  many  of  his  former  employments,  and  unfitted  in  a 
great  degree  for  general  intercourse,  his  pious  affections 
still  retained  their  accustomed  tenour,  his  trust  in  God 
still  preserved  all  its  power.  Tranquil  in  the  bosom  of  a 
cheerful  and  ever  attentive  family,  soothed  with  the  mark- 
ed regard  of  a  few  ancient  friends,  free  from  worldly  care 
and  mental  disquiet,  rejoicing  in  the  Christian  faith,  and 
reposing  all  Ids  hopes  on  his  Father  and  his  God,  he  pass- 
ed years  of  increasing  weakness  without  complaint,  and 
at  length  died  without  a  groan. 

Which  of  us  is  not  ready  to  exclaim  in  the  fervent  lan- 
guage of  an   impassioned  heart,  Let  me  die  the  death  of 


the  Rev.  Newcome  Cappe.  385 

the  righteous  ;  let  my  latter  end  be  like  his  ?  I  trust,  my 
brethren,  we  are  all  thus  affected.     I  flatter  myself  it  will 
not  be  laid  to  our  charge,  that  when  the  good  man  is  taken 
from  the   earth,  we  regard  it  not.     When  we   contemplate 
departed  worth,  we  cherish  more  than  a  feeling  of  simple 
approbation.     We  are  sensible  that  we  should  do  equal  in- 
justice to  the  dead  and  to  ourselves,  were  we  only  to  ad- 
mire.    Though   the   eloquent  tongue   which   has  so  often 
spoken  in  this  place  is  now  consigned  to   the   silent  tomb, 
the  Spirit  by  which  it  was  inspired  still  speaks,  and  I  am 
persuaded,   will  long  continue  to   speak   to   this  Christian 
church,  to  those  who  form  a  casual  part  of  this  assembly, 
to  his  numerous  distant  friends,  and  to  all  who  have  known 
his  character.  "  Be  ye  followers  of  me,  as  I  was  of  Christ," 
is  the   solemn   language  of  his   durable  address.     Though 
the   sound  does  not  strike  our  bodily  ears,  it  is,  I  doubt 
not,  felt  in  our  hearts  :  and  I  entertain  the  pleasing  hope 
that   it    sinks  deep  into  our  minds,  and  will  be   faithfully 
obeyed  in  our   lives.     To  his  surviving  relatives,  he  has 
left  a   pattern  which    I   am  sure  will    never  be   forgotten. 
To  his  late  assistant  and  now  mourning  successor,  he  has 
bequeathed  a  rich  legacy  of  professional  experience  which 
I  am  confident  will  be  valued  more  than  choice  silver.     To 
you,  the  former  attendants   on  his  publick  labours,   there 
will   ever  remain   a  pleasing   remembrance  of  the  instruc- 
tion, the  caution,  the  reproof,  the  encouragement  and  con- 
solation   severally  dispensed,  each   in  its  due   season.     It 
has,  indeed,  already  for  some   time   been  only  a  pleasing 
remembrance.       But    though   you    have    been   bereaved, 
you  have  not  been  forsaken.       It  was  a  source  of  high  sa- 
tisfaction to  your  deceased  pastor,  that  he  then  saw  you,  and 
was  likely  to  leave  you,    under  the  faithful   direction  of  a 
younger  minister,  "  for  whom  he  left  the   affection  of  a 
parent,    and   from    whom  he  received    in   return  a  filial 


386  Sermon  on  the  Interment  of 

love.""^'     You  are  sensible  of  your  happiness,  and  I  re- 
joice with  you  in  it. 

What  then  remains  but  that  we  all  retire  from  this  bouse 
of  death  with  minds  disposed  to  serious  reflection,  and 
with  an  earnest  desire  "so  to  number  our  own  days  as  to 
apply  our  hearts  to  true  wisdom  ?"  We  also  are  mortal. 
We  also  are  made  of  frail  materials,  and  cannot  insure  our 
health,  our  strength,  or  our  lives,  for  a  moment.  Before 
the  close  of  this  short  winter's  day,  a  sudden  stroke  may 
relax  the  sinews  of  our  frame,  debilitate  our  mental  pow- 
ers, and  either  snatch  us  away  at  once,  or  cause  us  to  go 
down  by  slow  degrees  to  the  pit. 

But  were  we  certain  of  what  we  ourselves  are  accus- 
tomed to  call  "  length  of  years  and  many  days,"  what  at 
the  best  is  human  life?  Is  it  not  a  vapour  which  soon  dis- 
solves into  air  ?  Is  it  not  a  shadow  which  is  blotted  out  by 
the  first  passing  cloud  ?  What,  on  the  retrospect,  are 
"  threescore  years  and  ten  ?"  Are  they  not  "  as  yesterday 
when  it  is  past,  and  as  a  watch  of  the  night  ?"  Time  is  on 
the  wing  ;  no  barrier  can  slop  his  progress  ;  no  impedi- 
ment can  lessen  his  speed.  Our  years  come  and  go  in 
swift  succession.  Each  has  its  fixed  limits  ;  each  is  dis- 
tinguished by  its  peculiar  events  ;  each  fulfils  its  appointed 
purpose  in  the  immense  scheme  of  divine  Providence,  and 
then  is  gone  for  ever.  In  a  few  hours  another  will  have 
run  its  race.  We  shall  hail  its  successor  as  a  welcome 
guest,  and  shall  express  our  benevolence  to  each  other,  by 
cordial  wishes  for  a  numerous  similar  seasons  \^ith  equal  or 
greater  blessings  in  their  train.  In  a  few  hours  another 
century  will  also  have  finished  its  longer  course.  But 
with  respect  to  that  which  the  silent  lapse  of  time  is  about 
to  raise  into  being,  we  cannot  employ  a  similar  greeting. 
The  commencement  of  many  successive  centuries  none  of 

*  Nearly  Mr.  Wellbeloved's  own  words,  in  a  letter  to  the  preacher 
on  the  death  of  his  revered  friend. 


the  Reu.  Newcome  Cappe.  387 

us  hope  to  see.  Where  are  now  the  busy  crowds  who  re- 
joiced in  the  first  rising  sun  of  the  eighteenth  ?  They 
have  passed  awaj  as  a  flood,  and  are  no  raore  seen. 
Where  will  every  one  of  us  be  long  before  the  year  nine- 
teen hundred  and  one  ?  In  the  cold  and  insensible  man- 
sions of  the  grave.  "  Our  breath  will  have  departed  from 
us;  the  thoughts  and  intents  of  our  hearts  will  have  per- 
ished ;  we  shall  no  more  have  a  portion  under  the  sun." 

But  can  we  be  satisfied  with  eternal  forgetfidness  ?  Do 
not  our  aspiring  souls  pant  for  immortality  ?  Do  we  not 
ardently  desire,  do  we  not  anxiously  crave,  do  we  not 
with  trembling  solicitude  almost  demand,  perpetuity  of 
being  and  enjoyment  ?"  These  ardent  desires,  these 
anxious  cravings,  these  trembling  inclinations  to  demand, 
will  be  fully  gratified,  if  we  do  not  disappoint  them  by 
our  own  folly.  The  benevolent  Creator  who  has  implant- 
ed in  us  the  wish,  has  formed  us  with  a  view  to  its  com- 
pletion. The  Author  and  Finisher  of  our  faith  has  direct- 
ed our  views  to  "  an  inheritance,  incorruptible,  undefilsd, 
and  that  fadeth  not  away."  If  we  only  employ  the  ap- 
pointed means,  and  "  walk  worthy  of  our  high  calling," 
this  inheritance  will  be  our  eternal  portion.  "  The  pro- 
mises of  God,"  delivered  to  us  "  by  Christ  Jesus,  are 
all  yea,  and  amen ;"  fixed  and  irrevocable.  "  Neither 
death,  nor  life,  nor  angels,  nor  principalities,  nor  powers, 
nor  things  present,  nor  things  to  come,  nor  heighth,  nor 
depth,  nor  any  other  creature,  shall  be  able  to  separate  us 
from  the  love  of  God,  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord." 
All  that  is  to  be  done  on  our  part,  is  fully  made  known  in 
the  revealed  will  of  God.  The  doctrines  of  the  New 
Testament  are  able  to  make  us  wise  unto  salvation.  But 
their  value  entirely  depends  on  the  spirit  with  which  they 
are  studied,  and  the  diligence  with  which  they  are  im- 
proved. Though  they  are  in  themselves  the  written 
word  of  the  everlasting  God,  to  us  they  will  be  nothing 
more  than  a  dead  letter,  if  we  do  not  apply  them  to   our 


388  Sermon,  Ac. 

hearts,  and  receive  them  as  rules  of  conduct.  The  friend 
of  whom  in  our  mortal  bodies  we  have  now  taken  an  affec- 
tionate farewell,  was  "  mighty  in  the  scriptures."  He 
devoted  the  studies  of  his  life  to  repeated  examinations  of 
their  contents,  not  merely  as  a  professional  duly — though 
that  was  ever  present  to  his  thoughts — iiit  that  he  himself 
might  have  a  stronger  conviction  of  their  importance,  and 
might  feel  more  of  their  practical  influence.  *'  He  now 
rests  from  his  labours,  and  his  works  follow  him.  He  has 
fought  a  good  fight,  he  has  finished  his  course,  he  has  kept 
the  faith  :  henceforth  there  is  laid  up  for  him  a  crown  of 
righteousness,  which  the  Lord,  the  righteous  Judge,  shall 
give  him  at  the  day  of  his  appearing."  If  we  ciiitivate 
his  faith  and  patience,  we  shall  like  him  in  due  time  be- 
come partakers  of  the  promises.  If  we  persevere  in  a 
course  of  well  doing,  we  shall  lament  his  loss  only  for  a 
few  earthly  days,  and  shall  celebrate  with  him  an  eternal 
sabbath  in  the  blissful  mansions  of  the  just.  The  now 
forsaken  domestick  relatives  will  then  be  again  blest  with 
the  husband,  the  parent,  and  brother  ;  the  members  of 
this  religious  society,  who  have  been  long  deprived  of 
ministerial  services  which  they  once  heard  with  profit  and 
delight,  will  then  again  listen  to  the  pastor  and  the  friend. 
All  who  loved  him  here  will  then  rejoice  with  him  in  the 
regions  of  perfect  love,  and  will  join  the  faithful  servants 
of  the  God  of  all  nations,  kindred  and  tongues,  in  one 
triumphant  song  of  praise.  Therefore,  my  beloved  breth- 
ren, lei  us  be  steadfast  and  unmoveable,  always  abound- 
ing in  the  work  of  the  Lord  ;  for  as  much  as  we  know 
that  our  labour  will  not  be  in  vain  in  the  Lord.  Let  us 
be  faithful  nnto  death,  that  we  may  then  receive  a  crown 
of  life. 


THE   END 


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